America Take 2
by lil-sakura423
Summary: What would have happened to the world if Baby America had picked Francis instead of Arthur to raise him. How would the world have changed if France was the world's extended super power? And how would his independence play out?
1. Birth Redo

_Disclaimer: So I don't own any of these characters, though most of the names used in this fic are based off of real historical people._

_This is just my interpretation of how America, and the world (within Hetalia), could have been if France had won the war. So don't take it too seriously. :)_

_A special thanks to Hidekazu-sensei, and my editor Hoshiko. Thank you!_

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Part 1

Birth - Redo

~ 1601 New France Territory~

It was the beginning of a new century and many changes were being made. Time had given most the privilege to redeem themselves from the depths of despair; to go from being the lowest on the food chain to the kings in the palace.

A tall blonde man with long blonde hair and blue eyes smiled with excitement as he looked around the wooden platform that led to the massive shipyard. Taking a deep breath he glanced at the brand new land that would soon be his to call his second home.

"Alright men! We have much to do before sunset! We failed one too many times in this land before and it won't happen again this time!" the captain, Pierre de Chauvin de Tonnetuit , blared over the deck of the largest ship.

Francis nodded and began making his way out into the uninhabited fields. The smell of the sea water, the sound of the leaves under his feet, the look of the bright blue sky, it was almost too much for him to handle.

Without wasting any time the men quickly set to work cutting down trees, building fires, and fishing for food. The bustle from the dock to the gravel was more than enough assurance to the French man that nothing could stand in the way of his new found dream of global conquest.

Within a few hours the French flag was flying high on the nearest hill for all of the world to see. Sitting around the campfire, the men set to work drawing out maps and making food for their adventure back to the supposed wasteland.

"Sir Bonnefoy, now that we've made it to this land to trade fur from King Henry's approval all we have to do is get the so called 'Montagnais' that Monsieur Cartier and Du Pont discovered to agree to join our trading post," the solider reported.

Francis took the map and began looking it over carefully. The lines were sketched carefully as if it were a key to a secret treasure; mountain ranges, large bodies of water, streams, known settlements. It was perfect. "I see. And these indicate what exactly?" he asked pointing to the darkened spots on the map.

"The path of the Saguenay River. According to the messages sent we have to make sure to watch out for whales and sharks that are occupying these waters. These dark spots are the cliffs that we could consider as an alternate route."

Francis nodded and pushed some of his blonde locks out of his face. He straightened the puffy collar on his shirt as a smile whipped across his face for the millionth time that day. "Oui. This seems like a good place to start up the post. Make sure that everyone is prepared to capture any animals, beavers especially, for our first official sell. For now..."

"Oui sir! Right away!" the solider nodded before running back to the group.

The first evening on the new island went as smoothly as planned. The morning sun slowly rose over the horizon, not even giving off enough heat to rid the morning frost from the leaves on the trees. Francis growled a little under his breath as he made his way back from the nearby stream they were using for cleaning.

"Even in the supposed warm season the morning air has a bite." Francis frowned and slid his clothes on quickly to rid himself of the shivers. He looked over to his soldiers as if waiting for a response.

Before the men could answer there was a rustle in the bushes behind them. Francis stood up and turned around cautiously watching the wild shrubbery as he reached for a piece of wood that was floating lazily on the shore. "Not to worry men," he whispered. "It's only a sign that life is sustainable on this island," he added as he continued to bend down slowly not wanting to make any sudden movements.

But before he could get his hands on bush, the creature from behind the shrub showed its face. Francis was more than confused at what had stuck its head out. A child? What in the world was an infant, especially one of this size, doing on an island like this?

"Mon ami...are you lost?" he asked holding out his hand to the boy. He was no taller than the length from Francis' knee to the ground. His messy, light blonde hair had a distinct curl poking off the left side of his head.

"Careful sir. We don't know who he belongs to or worse, who he's working for," one of the soldiers spoke softly.

"He's a child. What could he possibly do to us?" Francis asked and walked over to the boy. He bent down in front of him and held out his hand again smiling.

"Who...who are you?" the little boy asked.

"My name is Francis Bonnefoy, and I am the land of Française," he said flamboyantly. "I have come from across the ocean to see this new land in hopes to see the rest of what it has to offer," he said softly. "I presume you live here?"

The small boy looked up at him with violet eyes full of fear. He was dressed in only a large cloth and his tiny, shaking legs were sticking out from under the material.

"You don't have to be afraid of me mon ami. I won't hurt you. In fact," he placed his hand on his head. "I will help you develop."

"De...velop?" he looked away. "You aren't with the Vikings. Are you?"

"Oh no! Those barbarians? Never!" he said smiling. "We're better, stronger, and more civil than that."

"I don't know." he said backing away a little. "I should leave. As should you."

Francis eyed him and smiled, shaking his head. "Trust me. I won't hurt you. Look, I'll even keep my hands in front of me so you can see them at all times. And if you start to feel uncomfortable at anytime, just let me know."

The boy paused and thought for a minute, wondering if he could really trust the man. He looked into his eyes and then nodded slowly. "O-okay."

"Oui! Then let us feast!" Francis said as he stood up slowly and turned back to look at the group. "Alright men. This young one is going to be with us for a little while. He knows this area. I think he would prove useful to us on our journey."

The soldiers looked between each other not really trusting the boy, even though he was no taller than any of their knee high boots. Although none of them would dare to disagree with him to his face.

When they made it back to the camp, Francis sat the boy down next to him and handed him a bowl. He watched him carefully and observed his actions. He could tell that this was no normal child. He was indeed a soon to be nation. And if things went according to plan, his nation at that.

"So," Francis started. "I know that your "land" name is called Canada. Or how I would prefer to call it, Nouvelle-Française," he grinned. "But what is your name?"

The boy looked up at him and shrugged his shoulders a little. "Matthew."

"Matthew?" he asked sipping his wine. "Where did you get that name from?"

"Several years ago, people came to this land in a large boat with colored sails. It was the name of their ship. I guess...I just got attached to the name," he explained softly.

"Clever one you are. That suits you. You should keep it," he nodded.

Matthew looked up at him and smiled a little. "R-really?"

"Oui. But wait. Where did you learn to read? From the earlier settlers that have been here I presume?"

Matthew nodded a little but didn't really respond and finished off his meal.

"So how do you like it?" Francis asked and took his bowl from him.

"Good. Different from anything I've ever had."

Francis nodded. "Well then you can have it more often if you like."

"I can?"

"Oui. From now on Matthew, you and moi are partners."

"Partners?"

"Oui," he smiled. "As you yourself said my people have been here for quite some time. And it wouldn't be fair of me to just take it from someone as small as you, no?"

Matthew looked down and nodded a little. "I wouldn't want that to happen again."

"Good. Then I-we will call this new settlement...Tadoussac," Francis nodded. "The first trading post of mainland Nouvelle-Française."

"Sir, do you really think that it is a good idea to just go and claim this land without compromising with the natives first?" Tonnetuit asked carefully.

Francis looked up to the captain as a smile painted his face. "I have no idea what you mean. This boy here is the native's leaders."

The rushing waters of the falls seemed to always put his mind at ease. His golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes reflected in the crystal, clear water. He flinched as the cool water hit against his bare skin.

He reached his hand out to catch a large fish that had been swimming by but, due to the size of his hands, it managed to slip by. He growled under his breath and stood up with a look of disappointment. He then looked up to the sky and raised an eyebrow.

Dark smoke clouds were carrying through the clouds above from the north western portion of the falls. He could smell it in the air that it wasn't the smell of the regular pines that the natives used in this area.

There were people on the other side of the falls, and this time he wasn't sure how to get rid of them before they found their way in to the Great Lakes valley again. He picked up the cloth, wrapping it around his waist, and turned around taking off towards the cliffs.

He ran into the forest on top of the waterfall and began looking around frantically. He heard a branch snap behind him and quickly turned around.

"America," a soft voice came from behind the trees. It belonged to a tall, dark skinned woman with long black hair. She wore clothing that looked made from some material other than cotton and her long legs were only covered by a short skirt and no shoes. "This place is not safe. Those from across the sea have found their way back here."

America looked up at her with angrily. "How? Didn't we leave a warning with the last group who dared to venture onto our land? We can't just stand around and let them take over! Shouldn't we fight back?"

She shook her head and began walking past him patting his head slowly. "They have weapons that are more powerful than anything we have, almost the same as the people to the south."

America furred his eyebrows and looked back out to the falls. "Well, with any luck they won't make it over these cliffs."

She nodded. "Until they come into our territory we shall not attack. We don't want to invite death upon our tribes," she said gazing out at the bountiful land before her.

America watched her before turning off and running back into the woods. He didn't agree fully with waiting out and being hunted. He was going to spread the words to the tribes himself, if only so they can take proper precautions.

~1604 Coast of the Niagara Peninsula~

With Port Royal, Tadoussac, and Quebec springing quickly to the life, the French have claimed the northern portion of the St. Lawrence River in such a short amount of time with ease. It was impressive to many of nations back on the Mediterranean, though Francis himself still wasn't satisfied as there was an entire continent that he needed to see.

Moving south and following the river, instead of heading straight west, most of the French soldiers were quickly mapping out and learning to adapt to the climate. Plus, there were many high quality animal furs worth a lot of money back in Europe.

"Well this river has led us to a lake of some sort," Francis said looking at the map and then over the hill in front of them. "I wonder just how far down it goes."

Matthew looked up at the bottom of the map standing on his tip toes. "Oh you mean this lake? It continues on for a great distance. It splits off into four more."

Francis looked to him surprised. "Four more lakes?" Perfect. He thought to himself. With all this moist soil, livestock, and most importantly, fish, they could make a fortune.

"Alright then, Matthew, after we're finished setting up here you have to show me around these other lakes." Francis nodded hoping that there would be more wilderness for his use. "But what...is over that mountain range there?" He pointed.

"The mountains over there? That land beyond there belongs to the sub-Indian tribes. I don't know much about it as I've never really ventured that far. They call that land down there...America."

Francis' grin only widened as he folded the map and placed it into his pocket. "Is that so? Well then I think it is time for us to pay that land a visit. Don't you think?"

Before Matthew could even answer Francis had already taken off to tell his men the good news. He had heard stories about America from Spain, but for some reason had decided to come to Canada first. And even though the first two times were failed attempts, he knew that this time was going to be a success in both nations.

With the plans for his new fort nearly complete, Francis had headed off with a handful of men towards the large mountain range. For miles and miles they had been walking until they had come before a large waterfall-like canyon. The landscape made a large horseshoe shape so that Francis, Matthew and the troops faced the expansive waterfall.

Francis had to take in a deep breath at how beautiful it all was. "These falls are beautiful are they not?"

Matthew nodded and walked over towards the edge of the cliff. "I wonder if this is where the extra source to the lakes is?" he mused aloud.

"Sir! There is someone down there!" one of the soldiers shouted and pointed downstream at the rocks by the mouth of the falls.

Francis squinted his eyes and leaned further over. "Is that?"

Matthew gasped and ran down towards the rocks with ease as Francis tried to keep up and not fall over the edge. "HEY! HEY!" he yelled at the small figure that was about to lean over into the water.

The small figure looked up and turned to look at the two running over. The closer they got the more detailed the figure became. A small boy that looked almost identical to Matthew stared over at the two. Although Matthew's lighter shade of blonde and violet eyes made it clear that the two were not identical. At least not to each other.

"I don't..." Matthew huffed as he stopped in front of the kid. "I don't think you should be leaning over the cliff like that!"

The boy looked up at him and narrowed his eyes.

Francis caught up with the two and huffed as he looked between the two. Strange. Were they brothers? But he could have sworn that Canada was only one land, not split into two like Italy. "Boy, what is your name?"

The boy stood up and reached for his cloth and wrapped it around his waist.

Francis looked down at Matthew and shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps he doesn't understand us?"

Matthew looked into the boy's eyes and shook his head. "That's not it. I know you can understand me," he said reaching his hand out to touch him.

The boy took a step back and smacked his hand away. "Don't touch me."

Francis grinned and placed his hands on his hips. "So you can talk. You just wish not to."

The boy looked up at him and stood up backing away from the edge. "Leave this place. My people do not wish to fight you if it's not necessary. So please don't give me a reason to attack first."

Francis could have cried out with joy. Oh how God was smiling down on him! He didn't even have to go searching for him. He had come to him! This kid had to be America. He was about the same stature as Matthew and his way of speaking was not that of a normal human child.

Matthew shook his head taking a step towards him. "Well I can assure you that we aren't here to fight. If anything we only want to ask for your help."

The boy looked between the two. "My help? And what could you possibly need my help for?"

Francis walked over and bent down in front of him. It was time to work his magic. He could only hope that this kid was easily persuaded like Matthew was. "We are looking for more land and wildlife in order to grow crops and trade fur for sales across the ocean."

The boy looked to him as if he had a third eye. "You want me to help you kill _my_ animals and use _my_ soil to make money for you?"

"Well when you put it that way it doesn't sound very fair now does it?" Francis grinned.

"And you are?" the boy finally asked.

"My name is Canada," Matthew said softly though a smile came to his face. There was an unexplainable feeling that drew him to America; as if he had known him his whole life.

"And I am Francis Bonnefoy, the land of Française," he said holding out his hand to him. "By any chance would your name be America?"

The boy looked up at him a bit shocked as he took another step back. He felt his heel scrape against the edge of the cliff.

Matthew reached his hand out to him again afraid that he was going to fall. "Be careful."

Francis stood up slowly and shrugged his shoulders. "What do you have to lose by just coming and talking to us?" he asked looking the boy over. "Neither one of us is going anywhere anytime soon after all."

"And how can you be so sure?" America asked looking up at him regaining his balance.

"Call it a gut feeling," he said holding out his hand to him one last time.

~-1605 London, England~

Everything was starting to change. Arthur was wondering if it would ever happen, or more like, when it would happen; when his empire would begin to fall. Never did he think he would see the day that the French empire would rise to power...again.

Thanks to the Dutch and the Spanish Armada, his people were not only tired, but low on money. And thanks to those bastards taking over _his_ portion of the Indian Ocean, the money he should be receiving from his colonies wasn't coming in fast enough.

He sat down in the King's council room and ran his hand through his messy blonde hair. His tired green eyes scanned the large wooden table before looking down at himself. A white collared shirt stuck out underneath a black vest as his black dress pants were covered at the bottom by his boots.

His clothes were wrinkled and, had it not been for the fact that he had been called here on such short notice, he would have made himself a bit more presentable. Though he felt he had a valid excuse for looking the way he did.

With the death of Queen Elizabeth and the crowning of King James on his plate, he didn't even have the time to go and discover things or meet with anyone for trade. The only thing he had done was try and make a pact with Spain to end the war between the two that he had only been involved with because of the Dutch.

The talk of the new land had been spreading faster and faster and he was more than curious to find out what it was all about. Although with France already beginning his invasion and England's lack of supplies, there was no way he would be able to dare venture across the sea.

"Arthur...are you paying attention?" King James asked waving his hand in front of Arthur's face.

Arthur shook his head and looked over to him with a small smile. "Oh yes, of course, Your Majesty. Please continue on."

"As I was saying," he started and cleared his throat. "The council have heard word that the French have not only set up three cities in the land that is now called Canada, or "New France", as they call it, but they have two trading posts and they have already made alliances with two of the Indian tribes."

Arthur looked up to him with a shocked face and shook his head placing his hand down on the table. "Excuse me. What did you say? How is it that he could have made so much progress in only half a decade? Didn't they themselves say that land was uninhabitable during the winters and that they were losing so many men? How have they figured a way to even survive?"

James looked over to him and sighed. "The natives must be helping them in exchange for the trade. It's very well possible also that they have decided to move further south...towards America."

Arthur stood up and nodded. It was about time he did something to redeem the British Empire's name. "I can't just stand around and let him become more powerful. I won't allow it. If Spain was able to claim some of that land then we should be able to as well."

James looked over to him and stood up as well. "Are you sure you want to try and go up against them?"

"We are the bloody British Empire. We will not back down from anyone. We've been through much worse," Arthur growled.

James sighed and looked down at the embroidered table cloth. "I see you are a stubborn as ever. Elizabeth's council warned me about that."

Arthur looked to him and stood his ground. "Regardless of the consequences we need to get over there as soon as we can. I know for a fact that the people of England refuse to believe that any nation, especially France, is climbing above us."

"You shouldn't let them live in such a fairy tale land Arthur," James said softly and glanced out the window at the city. "And neither should you."

"I'm not living in a dream land," he said firmly. "I know that my people can do it whatever they set their mind to and that they deserve a lot more than what I've been able to provide for them. Even through Elizabeth's excellent reign so much more could have been done."

"And avoided," James added in as there was a slight moment of silence.

"Whether you agree or disagree with my reasoning is up to you. But you can't tell me as _King_ of this land you will willingly sit back and let one of your rivaling empires rise to uncontrollable power."

James looked into his passionate green eyes as a small smile came to his face. He was staring into the eyes filled with the determination of his people. There was no way he could deny them what they truly wanted. "You have my permission to take men and go."

Arthur smiled and nodded thankfully at the sign of approval. "Thank you Your Majesty."

"But," he added in quickly. "If there really is nothing of profitable value that we can get our hands on while avoiding war, you bring my men and you come home."

Arthur nodded and continued to smile as he made his way out of the room. There wasn't a chance he would promise avoiding war, but he would definitely make sure that they wouldn't come home either empty handed or leaving their mark.

The week had passed and Arthur couldn't wait any longer. Preparations were finally completed and the longer he waited the more behind he would get when it came to being one of the settlers of this new land. Setting sail off the coast of the mainland came quicker than any of the sailors and soldiers asked for.

Arthur had made sure to bring everything he thought was necessary for the long journey. Guns, food, stock, and even a bit of gold in case negotiations had to be made.

"Sir," a sailor called to his attention as he walked over to the head of the deck.

Arthur was hypnotized by the feel of the waves beneath his ship. It had seemed like forever since he had been out to the wide open seas. The thought alone brought back so many memories.

"Sir?" the sailor asked this time a bit concerned.

Arthur turned around and looked to him. "Do you need something?"

"Sir, according to the lookout have set course towards the main land of Canada," he said showing him a map of the Atlantic.

"And the French soldiers? Where are they stationed?" Arthur asked.

"We aren't entirely sure, but some of our spies have brought back information from Paris that there is a trading port called French Port Royal in the land of, what the French like to call, Acadia," he explained pointing to the map.

"And we don't know where these three settlements that he has are located?" Arthur pressed.

"No sir, there is not further information on that as of late. But we do know of an abandoned region several kilometers from Port Royal were we can dock."

Arthur looked up from the map and to the sailor. "Very well then. Tell them to go full speed ahead. Avoid any other ships at all costs. We are in no condition to fight or lose any precious cargo."

"Yes sir." The solider nodded and walked back towards the lookout.

Arthur knew that the French were going to find out about their arrival soon after they step foot onto the land. So he would have to lay low on the other side of where French's main base sat. However, he knew that even with the mountain of spoils he brought along to bribe them with to venture away from war, peace wouldn't stay for too long.

~Up Stream of Lake Ontario~

It had taken much convincing and much bribing to get the boy to cooperate with France's request. He still hadn't given them full access to explore his land, at least not without supervision. This was when Francis had decided to speak with his people directly.

The eastern Indian tribes were the main groups that have agreed to cooperate with the treaty. Francis was okay with this as he had didn't have contact with those tribes to begin with. Though, once he had gained the trust of them, he slowly but surely gained the trust of America.

"Big brother Francis!" Matthew smiled running over to him. "Look! Look! I found another beaver!"

Francis looked behind him and smiled bending down pretending to carefully inspect it. "Good work Matthew, but I told you that you didn't have to look for them anymore. We have plenty of fur now."

America yelled out from behind the two and laughed. "How about this?" he grinned holding up a full grown ox with one arm.

Francis laughed and shook his head. "Be careful America! We can't have you getting hurt."

"Hurt? But look at how strong I've become?" America boasted and looked at the two. "Can _you_ do that?"

Matthew frowned and stepped from behind Francis. "Stop showing off, America."

"Or what?" he asked putting the ox down. He began walking over to the two.

Francis stood between the two boys and shook his head. "Now, now boys remember what I taught you. Civil war will only hurt you in the long run. Now let's..."

"Sir Bonnefoy! Urgent news!" a solider yelled running over to him. "The British have landed on the mainland of Acadia!"

Francis grinned and placed his hands on his hips. "Hm...I was wondering when he was going to show up."

Matthew looked up at Francis and tugged on his pant leg, still holding the beaver. "Who are the British?"

Francis looked down at the two boys and smiled. "No one important that you two need to worry about. All you should know is that they won't be staying around for long," he said as he nodded to the solider and ran after him. "Stay here! America, look after your brother!" he yelled over his shoulder.

America watched him run off and then looked over to Matthew, smirking. "Well...want to go see who these people they call British are?"

Matthew shook his head. "No, you heard what brother said. We have to stay here."

"Why? So we can never know what's going on? I want to see what's beyond here. He said he came from across the ocean right? How come he's never taken us there?"

"Maybe because it's dangerous. He is looking out for us. I mean...think about it. He hasn't been home in ages."

"And who's stopping him from going home? I mean it's not like he isn't free to come and go as he pleases." America crossed his arms.

"That may be but he is just keeping his promise to us. Remember, he said that he was going to help us develop. It's not as if he can do that from across the ocean. You yourself said that he has been helping us out with the trade and all."

America scoffed and began following after the two that had just ran off. "You can stay here and play with Makawee and the Indians if you want, but I'm going to go find out what's going on for myself."

Matthew watched him run off and sighed. If they got caught, or worse, hurt, Francis would be incredibly angry with them. And it was scary when he got upset. But he couldn't lose his brothers. They were both important to him; he had to protect them. "America, wait!"

America smiled, knowing that he would follow after him eventually and continued to run forward.

~Coast of Acadia~

"Sir Kirkland...we have to move out of here fast. The French…they found out that we were..." a solider started but was interrupted.

"I am not leaving," Arthur said sternly. "Look at how flourished this land is. All of these trees, the mountains to the north, and the bay that supplies all of these rivers. Even if the winters are to be harsh, with a little preparation on the off seasons, we can make it."

"But sir...they probably know this land better than we do. Even if we do decide to run further into the country we would not only have to face the Spanish, but also the Indians. We don't have enough supplies or men to take any of them on," the solider explained.

"Then we will find a way. If we can hide out here until they either leave us alone or the cold drives them away. By the looks of the soil winter isn't coming for another month or two."

"Hiding out for two months? How is that supposed to get us our supplies that we need to survive the winter?" the solider asked reluctantly.

"That's something you can figure out...now isn't it?" Arthur asked annoyed.

"Sir Kirkland!" another solider ran over looking behind him.

"What now?" he asked turning to the man.

"The Indians! The Indians sir! They're here!"

Arthur looked to him and then began running in the direction he came from. If he could get the Indians to make the French leave, then maybe he could hold out for a bit longer. That is...if they didn't already have an alliance with them too.

"Oh...America...where did you go?" Matthew asked as he continued to search through the wooded pine. He had not only been searching for Francis, but now also America. "He's just too fast for me," he huffed and wiped his brow. He then stopped and jumped up into one of the tree branches hearing the sound of voices close to him.

"So...you're the British leader," a voice came from behind Arthur.

He turned around slowly, and didn't see anything until he looked down. A small boy with blonde hair, blue eyes and a hair sticking out of place on the left side of his head stared up at him. What was a small French boy doing all the way out here alone? How did he find him so quickly? And what was this strange aura emitting from him? "And you are?" he answered him in French.

"I should be asking you that question. You aren't supposed to be here. So get out of here before I tell brother Francis that you are here," America said pointing up at him.

"Brother...Francis..." Arthur said to himself and looked back to the boy. "What is your name?"

Before he could answer a voice came from behind them.

"America," a soft voice spoke.

Arthur turned around to see a tall, dark skinned woman with long black hair.

"You're...America," Arthur said softly and watched the boy. "That explains that feeling. Then that must mean you are..."

"Makawee, the Land of the Natives," she said softly, standing between America and Arthur. "I advise that you take your soldiers and go back to where you came from across the ocean. Sir Bonnefoy has made alliances with most of my tribes on this coast and has gained my trust. I don't need another country coming in and starting trouble."

"My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I am the Kingdom of England. I assure you Madame Makawee that I am not here to start any trouble. If anything I am just here on official business to help _my_ people get back on their feet."

America stepped from behind Makawee and glared. "Then why have you come here of all places? Especially when you knew that this land belongs to us?"

"With the hopes," he smiled softly. "That you would share it with me."

An arrow flew passed Arthur's head taking a lock or two of his hair with it.

"I think not," America said as the tribe came out of hiding. "We won't share this land with anyone else."

Arthur took a step back, feeling the power that flowed through his words. Before he could say anything, his men ran over to where the three were standing. "Sir! They've attacked! We..."

Makawee looked to Arthur and placed her hand to her side. "I told you to leave before it was too late."

Arthur turned around and looked behind the group of men that were with him. They had been surrounded on almost all sides. He silently cursed under his breath. One false move and they would be torn to shreds.

Matthew then jumped out of the tree and ran over to the group. "America! Makawee! Stop it!"

Arthur turned and saw another small blonde boy running towards them. "What..." he then turned around and looked from America to Matthew. "Wait..."

"Canada! Get back! Don't come any closer to this man!" America yelled. "We have it all under control. After all...it's my land he's after."

"You mean my land," Francis' voice came from behind Matthew as he walked over to the group slowly. He had a group of his soldiers following after him ready for anything Arthur tried to throw at him. "Face it Arthur, this land has already been claimed in the name of the King of France. You try to take us on as you are now..."

He didn't have to finish his sentence. Arthur looked around knowing that they were clearly outnumbered, on men and weapons. He cursed under his breath and looked over to his men. "Fine..."

Matthew ran over to Arthur and shook his head. "No! Wait!"

America reached over and grabbed Matthew's arm. "Stop it!"

Matthew shook his head. "No! It's not fair! Why should we send him away when we have all this land and space? You heard what he said. He just wants to help his people! How are we any different?"

Francis smiled a little, knowing just the type of nation Canada would soon become if he wasn't careful. He would have to change that...and fast. "You are correct about that, Matthew. But think about this," he said circling around Arthur like a shark. "If we keep letting any and every one come over here whenever they feel like it then what land would we have left?" he asked not taking his eyes off of Arthur.

The French, British and Indians stood in battle position. If one false move was made they would fire on command.

Matthew looked to the ground and then looked up at Francis. "But...didn't you yourself say that the point of meeting new people was to become partners with them?"

Francis laughed and stopped walking, standing in front of Arthur. "Ha...Mon ami...let me tell you something. This man," he said looking Arthur in the eyes. "And I...could never be partners."

Arthur didn't back down. As if he would. He looked from Francis and down at the two, Canada and America; two growing nations that had so much potential. And yet to be in the hands of...of this man. A waste! And this woman...she must have been the country representing the Indians. But was it possible to have two countries come from one land?

America stepped up. "Well if you don't think you can be friends with him then it would be best not to have any more trouble."

Arthur walked around Francis and began walking over to his men. He would leave, for now. But he was going to convince those boys that being under the rule of the French King was a mistake.

~1606 Coast of Lake Huron~

A year had passed since Arthur and the remainder of the British soldiers had begun the fishing trade post off the coast of the great lake. Because France was so busy trying to run out the Dutch and the Indians were expanding westward, the only one that knew of his secret stay there was Matthew.

He had told him that he was only going to keep it a secret until he was ready to let his presence be known, though sooner or later he knew that either America or Makawee would find out that Matthew was hiding something.

"America. Please you can't tell anyone," Matthew begged as he followed after his brother.

America shook his head and continued heading towards the lake. "You've let them move in and now they've taken over a lot of farm lands in the Midwest! How all of the tribes around there failed to notice them I will never know."

"It's because he's gained some of their trust now. They trade not only between each other but over the oceans too. And Arthur is really nice. He's..."

America stopped when he saw the new towns that had sprung up on his land from atop of a hill. "I can't...believe how fast they built those...with such little people."

"It was a struggle to stay alive during the winter also. They don't have the training or the immunity we have to survive some of the winter diseases..." Matthew explained. "He's lost...a lot of men."

"Then why won't he just leave? It's stupid to stay here and die out!" America pressed.

"Because America, you heard what he said! They can't just give up now. Think of all of the people depending on them back home," Matthew stressed.

"I see you've figured out my secret," Arthur's voice came from behind a tree. He stepped aside and turned to face the two.

"Arthur!" Matthew smiled and ran over to him.

Arthur smiled and patted his head. "Nice to see you. I was beginning to worry that something happened to you," he laughed.

America's face softened as he slowly walked over to the two. "What are you still doing here? I thought we ran you British out."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and knelt down in front of him. "Nice to see you too America. I've been doing fine. And you?"

America grumbled and crossed his arms. "Fine. But you won't be soon. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just tell brother Francis that you are here."

"Don't America! I told you, he..."

Arthur cut Matthew off and looked into America's eyes. They were as blue as the deep ocean, a color that he could stare at for hours. A small grin came to his face. "What is it that you want?"

America looked to him a bit surprised and furred his eyebrows. "What?"

Arthur stood up and looked at him nodding. "What is it you want...that he won't give you?"

America looked at him and then away to the ground. "I...well...I..." he started.

Arthur nodded. He had gotten one of them to trust him. Now all he had to do was get the main one and this land will no longer belong to Francis. "How about you come with me? We can discuss this country to country."

America looked up at him confused. "C-country?"

Matthew smiled. Things were starting to look up already, hopefully.

America looked behind him and then forward again. He wasn't sure if this was the best decision. But if Matthew had been able to trust him without getting hurt then maybe he could too. No. What was he thinking? He was falling for a bribe. But then again...Francis did the same thing to him.

Arthur smiled and held out his hand. "How about it? A simple discussion. If you still don't agree, then I will pack up my people and leave."

Matthew looked up to him with wide eyes. "What?"

America stared into his eyes. He wasn't backing down and that, to him, was the act of a trustful person. "Fine, but if I am not impressed, you leave."

Arthur smiled softly and nodded. "Shall we?"

As the three walked away towards the fishing port, behind them watched a pair of curious brown eyes. Francis would indeed hear about this.

When they arrived at the cabin America looked around curiously. It was much different compared to Francis' cabins. This was neater, not as extravagantly decorated and even normal looking to a non-European eye. He took in a deep breath and scrunched his nose. "Ah-what? What is that smell?"

Matthew smiled and sat down in a wooded chair. "Tea leaves," he explained as he began swinging his legs.

"Tea leaves?" America asked as he walked over to the table and sat down next to him. "What are you doing? Burning them?"

Arthur laughed and shook his head. "Not necessarily. We boil them in water."

America rubbed his nose and looked to the large kettle by the fireplace. "Boil?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes. So that we can drink it," he said and set three cups on the table. "Have you never had tea before?"

America shook his head slowly and looked at the cups carefully. They were intricately decorated, made of some sort of glass like material. "No I haven't."

Arthur laughed a little. "Well then consider this your lucky day," he said carefully grabbing the kettle with tong like utensils.

Matthew nodded and looked to America. "It's really good. I like mine with sugar and syrup."

America laughed. "You like syrup on everything," he teased.

Arthur began pouring the tea and pulled out the milk, honey, syrup and sugar. "Well I like mine with milk," he grinned. "I have plenty of it and plenty of time. You can mix and match if you like."

Matthew snatched the maple syrup and spooned three spoonfuls into it. "I think he would like the honey."

America nodded and grabbed the honey, sliding a small bit into the tea. "So, about this conversation we were to have?"

Arthur grinned and nodded looking down at his cup. "Straight to the point I see. Alright then. Have you given me an answer?"

America took a sip of the tea, squinting his eyes a bit. "Yes," he said setting the cup down. "I want to go across the sea."

Arthur stood up and walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a plate. "Across the sea? For what reason may I ask?"

Matthew looked up to America curiously and continued to sip his tea off of his syrup covered spoon.

"I want to see the world," America said simply and looked over to him.

Arthur could tell that this boy was going to conquer the world someday. He was smart, had determination and negotiation skills, he learned from Francis no doubt, and was braver than many men he had encountered yet. "I see."

America waited to see what he was going to say. He watched as he sat the plate in the middle of the table and raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"

"Scones," he said smiling. "They go great with tea."

Matthew looked to the plate and laughed nervously. "They go good with...something that's for sure."

America raised an eyebrow and took one of the scones off the plate looking at it suspiciously.

Arthur popped on in his mouth and nodded. "That's such a large goal. Seeing the world," he said watching him. "But it's possible."

America then began choking and spit the scone out. "What is this?"

Matthew looked over to him laughing as he finished off his tea. "I told you."

Arthur looked away. "Well they are a bit stale..."

America raised an eyebrow. "A bit?" he asked and tried to wash the taste away with the tea. He then shook his head and hopped out of the chair. "Look. If you can get me around the world, then maybe we can arrange for you to stay here."

Matthew looked to him and shook his head. "That isn't your decision to make."

"Yes it is. And he did ask for my permission did he not?" he smiled and nodded his head. "Thank you for the tea. But I will be leaving now. I've stayed long enough."

Arthur stood up and watched him. "Give me a few months. Once the winter has passed I will have a boat and all for you."

"I make no promises," America said quickly opening the door. "Just because you made a deal with me doesn't mean you made a deal with all of America."

Arthur watched him leave the cabin trying to figure what it was he meant by that. Either way he would win the boy over.

~ Winter- Coast of Lake Huron~

The winter had come faster than any of them expected. Arthur wasn't even sure if his men could make it through the rest of the year. And as if anything couldn't get any worse the French had found out about their location... again. And rumor had it that they were not going to hold back this time.

Arthur trudged through the inches of snow near the iced up lake. They had come up with battle formations and even had a few reinforcements thanks to the neighboring tribes.

"Sir, preparations are complete," a solider gasped running over to him. "They are only seventy or so kilometers away. However, there aren't as many of them as we expect."

"Arthur!" Matthew yelled as he ran over to the two. "Arthur! They're going to attack! Brother Francis is..."

Arthur looked over to Matthew and shook his head. "I know. But you have to get out of here. It's going to get...too dangerous."

Matthew looked up to him curiously. "You...aren't really going to fight him...are you?"

Arthur nodded and looked up and out over the vast land that was covered with snow. "I am. Like I said before, we, the Kingdom of England, back down from nothing. And this place is too much for anyone to try and handle themselves. Especially him..."

Matthew shook his head. "But...why? Why do you have to fight about it? Why can't we just..."

Arthur bent down and placed his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "Because Matthew...Francis won't listen to anything I say to him. Be it about this or anything else, we have never been able to see eye to eye. And I highly doubt...that we ever will."

Suddenly there was a gunshot that came from over the hill. "They're here!" the solider yelled running back towards the base.

"It would be best...if you got out of here. I wouldn't want...anything happening to you," Arthur said as he stood up and walked away from him quickly.

Matthew watched as he walked off and turned to look up the hill. He would put an end to this. Once and for all.

Francis grinned as they approached the British base and looked over the hill. "Excellent. I will finally claim my place in the world as the most powerful empire to have ever ruled."

Arthur walked out of the logged building and held up his gun. If his men were going to fight then he would fight along with them. There was no way, even if it seemed like a failed attempt, that he was going to give this up easily.

Francis could see the small group of men gathering together and getting into formation. There was no way he was actually trying to fight him was it? Then again this was Arthur. If he were to give up easily then he would have had to been concerned that something was up his sleeve.

"Alright men! It's now or never! We only have us and the land below us to help us reclaim our dignity as British men!" Arthur yelled and pointed up towards the hill that the French were staring down at them from.

Francis looked back at his men and nodded. "Let's drive them back across the ocean where they belong."

The French charged down the hill and began shooting as soon as they were in range. Gun shots could be heard for miles as they began the battle. Francis stood in the back as he watched his men run down the hill. As far as the eye could see smoke from the gunpowder was slowly beginning to cloud the area.

Arthur cursed himself under his breath as he hid behind a crate. Peeking his eye over the top he readied his gun.

"There are approximately fifty of them sir," a solider against his back whispered to him.

"And we only have thirty men. Our others have gone off on that mission," Arthur replied. "We have to stick exactly to the plan. If we lose even one man we..."

A gunshot flew through the barrel and cut him off mid sentence. He stood up quickly and shot his gun at the French solider hitting him in the leg.

"LET'S GO!" Arthur yelled as they ran from out of the alley. He refilled his gun and took another shot just missing a soldier on top of a roof. "Damn it! How did they get down here so quickly?"

Francis rubbed his hands together as he grabbed a gun from the cart and readied it. He told his men to leave Arthur to him. If he was really going to give his all in this fight then he wanted to be the one to personally get rid of the annoying British man.

"America! America you have to stop them!" Matthew yelled as he continued to pull his brother towards the battle field.

"How? I can't stop them Matthew!" America retaliated.

"I don't know! But you have to think of something and fast! If something happens to brother Francis or Arthur...all because they were fighting over _your_ land...how could you deal with that?"

America looked to the ground and shook his head. "You're right...I should stop them," he said as he ran down to the battlefield.

Arthur hid behind one of the buildings trying to catch his breath. He was just surprised that they had even lasted this long with such a small troop. But if he didn't stop to eat or sleep or even restock soon...he was done for.

"Give up Arthur," Francis said as he pointed the gun at him.

Arthur held his breath and turned his eyes to look at him. How did he find him? "That's impossible. You and I both know that you don't deserve to hog this land all to yourself."

Francis raised his eyebrow and sighed. "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. Look at the condition you are in. I could take you out right now. And the sad thing about it? No one back in your land would ever know a thing because they would all be dead and silenced. As they should be, for going up against me."

"You think you're so big and bad now just because you have a little power! You haven't even had a taste of what being a real empire is like!" he growled.

Francis clicked the barrel on the rifle. "Do you want to try me? Because I will be more than happy to take you out of the equation if it means my own sweet victory."

"I'm not afraid of you Francis," Arthur said once again.

Francis pulled the trigger and took a step back.

Arthur fell to his knees and held his arm. "Ah..." he hissed and looked down at his hand as the blood slipped through the cracks of his fingers and dripped onto the white snow.

"Like I said," Francis grinned cockily. "Give up and go home."

"Stop!"America yelled as he ran over to the two and held up his hands.

"America...what are you doing here? Get out of here before you get hurt!" Francis demanded.

"No. I should be able to choose who shares _my_ land with me! Not you two or anyone else!"

Francis laughed a little and turned to face him. "Is it even possible that you would consider him an option? You have a better chance at dealing with Spain if he wasn't so preoccupied with his own unfortunate downfalls."

"For your information, America and I have a reasonable relationship," Arthur chimed in as he winced holding his head down. "Just because you're jealous of him making a new friend doesn't mean you have to drive me out."

"Jealous?" Francis scoffed. "You heard what Makawee said, this land belongs to him and her. I just so happened to gain her trust in helping develop America beside her."

"Still, shouldn't I be the one to decide whether or not you get to keep me or not?" America asked.

Francis sighed and looked down at the boy and nodded. "Of course mon ami. How could I forget? Why don't you decide who you want to help raise and develop your people?"

America looked between the two and jumped at the sound of another gunshot. "I can't...I can't think."

Arthur sighed, feeling sorry for the boy. He didn't want for him to have to go through this, but at the same time the horror of what could happen if he was run under the French government... "America," he said softly and lifted his head up. "You are who you are. You don't belong to anyone."

Francis was getting fed up with Arthur putting those ridiculous ideas in America's head. He had to get him out of here and fast. "Mon ami, look at the options you have here. Staying with me you will have everything you ever wished for. Those ridiculous British and their stuck up rules and outrageous taxes. Not to mention your three neighboring countries are all allies with me. Meaning if anything were to happen to you, you are more than safe."

"Yes, but staying with me means you will be free to roam wherever you please. You yourself said Francis keeps you so limited here. Not only that but you will have many international allies. Not just your neighbors," Arthur said softly and began lifting himself up slowly though the pain was slowing him down.

America looked between the two and held his head.

"That may be, but I never said he didn't have the freedom to leave. I just told him now wasn't a good time to go wandering off in other countries," Francis defended.

America sighed and looked over to Arthur. "He's right..."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Wha...what do you mean?" he asked nervously.

America looked up at him and frowned. "I don't know if it would be best for me to just go...go off away from what I know. I do like you Arthur, and I appreciate all that you have taught me, but the fact of the matter is... I've known Francis longer. I trust him and...well to put this simply...you can't cook."

Arthur's mouth slightly hung open as he looked to the small boy in confusion. "Wh...what?"

Francis couldn't help but grin. "Face it Arthur. You were too little too late. And because you tried to win over a heart that was already blessed with the wealth and knowledge of the French Empire...I think you should have already foreseen your loss."

Arthur looked to the ground defeated. How is it that he could have lost? And to France? It was as if their roles had been reversed. "I..."

America looked over to Francis and glared. "I never said that _you _owned me to begin with!" he said pointing a finger up at him. "If Makawee or even the Spanish heard you say that _my_ land belonged to the French empire, how do you think that would go over?"

Francis laughed a little and looked down at him as he hoisted his gun over his shoulder. "You are too young to understand America. Sometimes with great power comes sacrifice." He then looked to Arthur and smiled. "Oui?"

Arthur looked over to him and glared as he placed his hand back over his bullet wound. "You wouldn't know anything about sacrifice you coward."

"Coward?" Francis asked raising an eyebrow.

"You hide behind these so called people of yours and expect to become something great?" Arthur yelled. "You call yourself a country, but you're nothing more than a..."

Francis placed the gun against Arthur's head and growled. "Say one more word."

"I said stop it!" America yelled. "Get out! Both of you get out!" he screamed and bent over holding his hands to his ears, closing his eyes.

Francis looked from Arthur to America and lowered the gun walking over to him placing his hand on his shoulder. He dropped the gun to the ground and lifted his chin to look at him. "I'm only doing this for your protection, America. I know that in the future, you will thank me for this."

Arthur stood up and hunched over a bit and watched the two.

America held onto Francis' shirt. "Make it stop. Make all of the fighting stop," he said as he shut his eyes tighter.

Arthur looked away and sighed. "America...I apologize for any hurt I caused you. I only wanted..."

"GET OUT!" he yelled and pushed away from Francis and ran back towards the hill that over looked the battlefield.

Francis watched him and looked back to Arthur. "You heard him. You've been dismissed," he said before running after the small boy.

* * *

_(Please review! I hope you all enjoyed and there is plenty more to come. Look out for Part 2 titled Development. ^^_

_Also some footnotes about things, historical names, and places used in this chapter:_

_1) Pierre de Chauvin de Tonnetuit was a French naval and military captain and a lieutenant of New France. Chauvin, along with Francois Grave Du Pont, obtained a fur trading monopoly for New France in 1599 from Henri IV. The two then went along to build a fort at Tadoussac that year._

_.org/wiki/Pierre_de_Chauvin_de_Tonnetuit_

_2) The Montagnais are a sub division of the Native American tribe Innu. _

_.org/wiki/Innu_

_3) There was never a reason given for Matthew's name, but many fans think that his name came from the caravel sailed by John Cabot from Bristol to North America in 1497 that was named Matthew._

_.com/wiki/Matthew_Williams_

_4) Acadia was the name given to lands in a portion of the French Colonial Empire in northeastern North America that included parts of eastern Quebec._

_.org/wiki/Acadia )_


	2. Development Retold

_Disclaimer: So I don't own any of these characters, though most of the names used in this fic are based off of real historical people._

_This is just my interpretation of how America, and the world (within Hetalia), could have been if France had won the war. So don't take it too seriously. :)_

_A special thanks to Hidekazu-sensei, and my editor Hoshiko2. Thank you!_

* * *

Part 2

Development - Retold

~1751 Quebec, Canada~

The war had finally come to an end, and with the evidence of the British ever invading the land fading away, France had decided to come up with a way to make sure there was no more room for any other country to try and take a piece of the North American land. A five way treaty between France, his two colonies Canada and America, Native America and Spain was signed, known as the "Division of the Continent", agreeing that no country will negatively interfere with another ones territory. Francis thought that this would be enough to keep himself preoccupied and away from Europe for the time being. That peace, however, didn't last for very long.

Although a little over a century had passed since the great battle for America, not much had happened in the land of the Americas. However, European and Asian countries were facing countless wars and deaths, causing more problems than either of the young nations wanted to get involved with. Because of this, and his hunger for more power, Francis had left the two baby colonies alone for years at a time to help deal with the countries that unfortunately picked France as their enemy. During this time the French empire was going through a series of wars, with England as their main enemy, and didn't have time to focus on anything else.

It was a rare chance that the two colonies would get to see their big brother. Anytime Francis would come for a visit, America and Matthew were quick to spend as much time with him as possible.

"I can't believe that! You actually went on to win against him again?" Matthew asked as he leaned forward on the floor pillow. He crossed his legs and leaned back a little smiling widely. "That's amazing!"

"Of course it's amazing. This is Brother Francis we're talking about here! I mean, he's the most powerful nation in Europe!" America laughed looking to his brother.

Francis shrugged a little as he sat back in the chair near the fireplace and shook his head. "Well it's not as if England had a chance against me anyways," he grinned, silently asking for praise from the two.

Matthew looked over Francis and frowned. He knew that he was badly wounded and there was no telling as to what scars were hiding under his clothes. He always worried about Francis and the fact that he was always hiding so much from them. Why exactly were all these wars going on and why did he, of all countries, have to be involved with every one of them?

America laughed and nodded as he leaned back, feeling the warmth of the fire as well. "So you, Antonio and Gilbert went up against the Austria-Hungarian Empire? That must have been exciting!"

"Exciting might not be the word I would use for it," Francis sighed resting his head against the back of the chair. "More like a hassle. Had England not shown his face, we would have won a lot quicker. Thankfully, I was able to call neutrality for the rest of the war once I drove England back to his island."

"What does that mean?" Matthew asked looking back at him with a small smile.

"A neutral power in a particular war is a sovereign state which declares itself to be neutral towards the belligerents. Meaning, since I finished what I had to do and had full confidence that my allies would win the war without my help, I more or less stepped out of the playing field," Francis explained.

America nodded. "Ah. That makes sense as to why you are back so soon," he teased and looked over to his brother.

Francis sighed. "Unfortunately, I won't be here for long. It seems tomorrow I have a meeting with my government again about something that's going on overseas."

Matthew shook his head. "I wish I could just keep you here, safe and protected."

Francis stood up slowly and stretched laughing a little. "Oh, you boys are so funny. But just remember this one thing if you don't remember anything else I tell you. In order to be successful in life you have to make sacrifices. And my choice is to stay out there and fight so that you two can have a better life."

"But who would dare try to mess with us?" America asked.

"No one now because of all the work I'm doing," he assured them. "But just so you know I am doing this all for your sake. Remember that."

Within days Francis was out on the seas again leaving the two boys to their own devices. All of this talk of war and adventures had been giving America crazy ideas, as Matthew would call them. He worried that it would cause a lot more trouble for not only Francis, but for the others as well.

"It feels like just yesterday that Brother Francis was here and it seems like nothing but plagues and famines have decided to spread throughout the world. One could only wonder if God has decided to give up on us as a whole," Matthew sighed and looked up to the night sky. Feeling the soft grass beneath him was a refreshing change from the hard wooden floors of the cabins.

"I've never heard you to be so pessimistic, Matt." America grinned and looked over to him as the starry night sky continued to shine down on them in the midst of the summer heat.

"I know. It's just with Antonio and Francis gone we've been all alone for quite some time now," Matthew said softly and closed his eyes. "I only hope that everything in Europe is okay."

America sat up and looked over to him a bit confused. "Europe? Why would you even stop to think that everything was alright there? I mean if that were the case then Francis would be here with us, would he not?"

"That may be true, but it's all the more reason for me to wish that everything would just come to an end already," Matthew sighed.

America looked back up to the sky and said nothing as he continued to think. The soft night breeze pushed his bangs out of his face.

"So," Matthew sighed after a bit of silence. It was better to change the subject than to argue with him. "Have you thought of a name for yourself? It is starting to get confusing when saying the land America and you, America," he teased

America shrugged a little. "I don't know. I definitely feel as if I should give myself a name to differentiate myself not only from my land, but from Makawee's people as well."

Matthew looked over to him and raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I've lived with them and been associated with them for quite some time now. It hadn't been until these new generations, who call themselves Colonists instead of Spanish or French, that I can really feel like...I don't know, a real country."

Matthew then looked back to the ground. "So...do you think that having an actual name will put you on a country level or something? But you aren't even big enough, I mean, you're still a colony."

America smirked. "Yes, but I think it will not only get everyone on this continent's attention, but everyone outside of it as well," he said, sitting up and dusting the grass off of himself.

"America...you aren't thinking..."

"I am," he grinned and stood up stretching. "It's about time that America broadened his horizons."

Matthew stood up and shook his head, holding out his hands. "Whoa, now wait a minute America. Please tell me you aren't thinking what I think you are."

America turned and looked to him with a grin. "I'm not thinking what you think I am," he laughed. "Besides how am I ever going to become a great ally and colony to Brother Francis if I just keep doing exactly as I am? It seems like right now I'm... we're nothing but consolation prizes to him. And what about my people? They need more room to grow and develop."

Matthew sighed and looked to the ground. "Look, I'm sure if you just first talk to Francis and Makawee they will gladly take your suggestion into consideration."

"I shouldn't have to suggest Matthew," he said sharply and began walking towards the cabin. "Like I said before, this land is mine and I shouldn't have to share it if I don't want to."

"But America-"

"But what? You don't have this problem! How could you understand?" America snapped and clenched his fists.

"I do understand. I'm a part of this continent as well America," Matthew said, feeling a bit hurt by his words. "Or have you forgotten about that?"

America watched him and looked away. "No I haven't. But I know that it is time for me to show that my people are capable of bigger and better things. Like I said Matt, you wouldn't understand. I mean you live in...practically a frozen wasteland most of the year."

Matthew looked to him, surprised that he would dare say that to him to his face. Just because he didn't have as much inhabitable space or even as much fruit-bearing land didn't make him less valuable...did it? "Fine, do what you want. I can't stop you anyways," he said as he turned and headed off in the other direction.

America watched him go off and shook his head. "I'm only telling the truth Matthew!" he called after him. "Don't blame me!" he said more to himself as he sighed and made his way back to the cabin.

~Summer New South Wales, Australia~

"It appears that America is still thinking of expanding its borders," Arthur said as he set the letter he had just received from Matthew down on the table. Sitting across from him was a small tanned boy with a short brown ponytail. "Interesting news we have here, Australia. I wonder how that will come into play with France just coming out of all of these debt inducing wars and Spain claiming the west coast."

Australia looked up at him and smiled. "America?" he asked looking up to Arthur and tilting his head a little. "Where is that?"

Arthur reached over and placed the map down in front of him pointing. "See here. This is where you are." he smiled and then stretched his arm over to the other side of the map. "And there is the North American continent."

Australia looked at the map wide eyed. "Whoa! That's a lot of land."

Arthur nodded. "Exactly. So it could be a problem if...well if he tries to take control of any of these territories that aren't his."

Australia nodded and looked over the map as he climbed up onto Arthur's knee. "The world sure is big. Do you think I will ever see all of it?"

Arthur looked down at him and smiled nodding. "I think it's possible; with a little determination and a boat."

Australia laughed and nodded. "Even to be as powerful as you are and conquer the world?"

Arthur chuckled, walking over to him and patted his head. He picked him up and set him down on the ground in front of him. "Honestly I think that anyone has the ability to conquer the world."

"Really?" Australia asked looking up at him. "Well then I should become strong before America has a chance to take me over!" he grinned jumping off of his lap and running off.

Arthur laughed and watched him. He then looked down at the ground, sighing, before looking back over to the table. He pulled out some ink and parchment paper.

_To Matthew,_

_I can see that you are, indeed, in quite the predicament. However, I would suggest you do all you can to stop him. If he were to go against Native America for her land there is no telling what might happen if Francis or Antonio takes her side. Worse off, despite what he may believe, he doesn't have the man power to take on two or three territories by himself. I only hope that you side with him in the event something does happen. He will definitely need all the help he can get, trust me. It hurts to have an ally, much less your own brother, going up against you._

_Arthur_

He sighed and folded the paper nicely placing it in an envelope. He walked out of the building and handed the envelope to the messenger. "Deliver this to Canada. Make sure that Matthew gets it and no one else."

With that, the messenger ran off and Arthur was left there to look out onto the Pacific Ocean by himself. The salty smell of the ocean rubbing against the sand on the beach had a strange calming effect on him.

He then looked up at the sky and sighed. "I only hope that letter gets to him...before it's too late."

~Fall Border of the western Louisiana Country~

America made up his mind that he was going to go talk to Makawee about extending his portion of the land. He knew that she was a very compromising woman; Francis had convinced her to sign a pact with him all those years ago after all.

Although the warning words Matthew spoke to him rang in the back of his mind, he ignored them as he made his way further into the mid-western territory. The wide grassy fields were slowly being covered by the red, orange and yellow colored leaves that were falling from the trees. He took in a deep breath as he looked around carefully and approached the entrance to the village that sat on the border. The many teepees were gathered together and a large stream ran through the center of the main road. He walked into the town and shoved his hands into his pockets. Many of the natives watched him as he strolled by.

"Does anyone know where I can find Makawee?" he said loudly asking the crowd in general.

He did a full spin and looked at each and every one of the natives. None of them looked as if they had any interest in telling him where she was. "Fine," he said to himself. "I guess I will just have to go and find her myself."

Just then, a small girl came from out of the crowd and began walking towards him. An older woman, with a worried look on her face, grabbed at her, but missed her arm. She called something to the girl in a language that America couldn't understand. America looked to the girl and raised an eyebrow bending down to her eye level. She had short, dirty brown hair and dull gray eyes. She appeared to be no older than ten years old and wore a long, decorated brown cotton-like one piece. Her bandaged hand slowly lifted up to point to the large hut in the middle of the village.

He turned around to look at it and then back at the girl. "Makawee is in there?" he asked pointing behind him.

The girl looked up at him and continued to point. He didn't know if she couldn't understand him or if she just didn't want to talk to him. Either way, he had figured out where Makawee was and that's all he needed to know. He nodded and bowed his head to the girl before walking off towards the large hut.

Behind him he could hear the natives going back to moving while the young girl was being scolded by the older woman from before. America looked up at the tall teepee and cleared his throat raising his hand to knock until he realized the door was just a cloth draping. "Makawee! I have come to discuss something with you! Will you see me?"

There was silence for quite some time before the cloth was pushed aside. Makawee stood before him with an unpleasant look on her face. Her rich brown eyes narrowed as the light from the sun filled the dim room behind her. Her long, gray flecked hair was down and covered her chest down to her waist.

"I see that this isn't a good time for you to talk." America smirked a little.

"Did you come to see me for a reason, America? Or did you just want to talk over a meal?" she asked stepping aside to let him in.

He walked into the teepee and sighed laughing a bit. "I did come here for a reason, but I honestly do not wish to disturb you if this truly is a bad time for you to talk."

She shook her head and walked over to the floor table, sitting down on one of the pillows. "Well I invited you in did I not?" She grinned. "So, what is it that you wish to talk to me about?"

America sighed and took a seat on one of the pillows, folding his legs as he looked over to her seriously. "I've come here on behalf of my people to ask you to kindly move further west."

Makawee looked to him and blinked placing her hands in her lap. "Because?"

"We need more space. My people are growing at an incredible pace, and with all of the advancements we are making due to opening our own overseas trade...we need to expand," he explained. "So I need for you to tell your people to move further west."

She watched him carefully as he explained as a small frown came to her face. "I was expecting this to come up soon."

He looked to her curiously. "What do you mean by that?"

"Ever since you were younger, you had that independent factor about you. Something that I knew would come into effect once you figured out what was really going on outside of the walls that Francis had set up around the continent." She looked up at him still frowning.

"Are you saying that my wanting this is bad?" he asked leaning closer to her over the table.

She didn't back down to him and shook her head. "What I'm saying is that your way of going about getting the things you want, America…," she sighed and looked away. "…will get you in more trouble than you can get yourself out of."

"Is that so?" he asked, standing up swiftly. "Well what makes you so sure that I'm going to get in trouble? Are you saying that you won't give me more land?"

"I'm saying, America, that it's not just my land to give," she spoke simply.

"And what do you propose? We have a continental meeting about this?" he asked angrily.

Makawee stood up and stared up at him. "As opposed to what America?"

America looked down at her and grinned as he watched her raise an eyebrow to his reaction. "Never mind," he smiled turning around to walk out of the teepee. "If you think I should take it up with someone else then I will. After all, as you said, it isn't your land to give."

She reached out and grabbed his wrist tightly and growled under her breath. "I hope you realize that if you try to go against me then you _will_ be alone."

He turned around and leaned closer to her face still smiling. "Is that a threat, Native America?"

Her eyes widened as she took a step back from him, her grip loosening on his wrist. "What...what happened to you? You never used to be this way towards me."

"I grew up," he said simply. "I realized that I wasn't just content with living cozy on this continent and pretending that everything out there had nothing to do with me."

"Because it didn't! You're a new nation, America! Why would you want to risk your people by putting yourself out there like that? You aren't ready and yet you..." She stopped and looked to the ground.

"A wise man once told me that in order to gain great power, sacrifices must be made," America said, taking a step back from her. "However, I know that the colonies of America are ready to expand and to do so we have to move west!"

Makawee continued to stare at the floor and shook her head slowly. She didn't know what to say to him. To her, being a larger nation or colony and showing off your power or goods to other countries was nothing more but an invitation for invasion.

And that was exactly what her people had run away from; leaders greedily seeking nothing but world domination. She didn't want America to become that way, but by the looks of it, the sweet innocent boy she knew all these years was lost in the corruption of this new generation.

"I don't know what to say to you, America, but I will not just step aside and let you take over what my people have worked so hard to obtain," she said firmly.

"Even the mightiest of trees topple over with time Makawee," America said as he then turned swiftly and walked out of the teepee. He couldn't believe that she was actually telling him to just lie down and deal with the cards that fate had dealt him.

Never. If anything, he would convince someone to side with him on this as he was not going to let his people down.

~Border of Mexico~

The further south he went the hotter the air became. America stumbled through the deserted wastelands in hopes of coming to the nearest town soon. He wasn't fluent in Spanish but he knew enough to help get him around in this barren territory. He reached for his canteen and took a sip as he leaned against a large rock towering over a cactus.

The sun blazed over him as there wasn't a cloud to be found in the sky to protect him from the deadly heat waves. It wasn't until he walked a few more miles that he came to a small town set up at the base of a stream. There were only eight or nine buildings at most lined up on either side of the road and a large cement fountain was sitting in the middle of the intersection.

He made his way over to the fountain and sat down on the edge of the base as the mist from the cool water sprinkled against his boiling skin. The town was unusually quiet; only three or four people were walking around at a time from building to building. He had figured that everyone was inside due to the heat or this was a new town that not many people, or tourist, knew about yet.

A familiar voice came from his left side as he turned to look for the person in which the voice belonged. Two men were walking side by side looking down at a long piece of paper. One was a Spanish solider, the other was his target.

"I've found you Antonio," America grinned as he walked over to him.

Antonio turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. He looked extremely tired and beat up as his clothes were torn and his face was dirty. His dark hair was a mess and he slouched over a bit from the hidden scar that dug into his back.

"America," he said softly and ran his hand through his hair. "I never expected you to come all the way down here."

"Well I've come a long way in hopes that you would have time to talk to me," America said softly. "Will you grant me my wish?"

Antonio laughed a little and nodded patting him on the shoulder. "But of course," he said as he motioned for him to follow him. "Come on in here."

America followed him into the small building and leaned against the wall as Antonio ordered the men inside to leave them alone to talk. Once they were alone he turned around and faced him with a weak smile. "So, how may I help you?"

"What happened to you?" America asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"Surely you didn't come here to laugh at my battle scars." Antonio grinned and sat down in a chair.

"Not necessarily. But since you are technically an ally of mine, and sharing my continent, I would like to know what exactly is going on around here."

Antonio chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Have a seat. It seems we have much to talk about then."

"Finally, someone who will actually listen to me with reason," America sighed in relief as he walked over to the table and took a seat.

"What do you mean by that?" Antonio asked.

America rolled his eyes a bit and folded his arms on top of the table. "Well, I met with Makawee recently and asked her if she could do me a favor. And even after making a very convincing argument, she still wouldn't listen to me. Why is it that just because my people and I are younger than the rest of you, you think that everything I say is just ridiculous?"

Antonio raised his hand. "Wait a second. I never said anything about that. Now go back a little. What exactly did you ask her that she so bluntly refused?"

"I asked her if she could move further west so that my people could expand their territories," he replied simply.

Antonio then looked him over and took a deep breath. "That is a problem."

"What? Why?" America asked.

"Because, if she did move further west, she would either be going into uncharted land or into my newly developed land," he explained.

"Your land? What do you mean? I thought you were only controlling the land to the south?"

Antonio shrugged. "I've decided to expand," he said quietly.

America slammed his hands onto the table and glared over at him. "What? How is it okay for you to expand and yet I have to just deal with my situation?"

"America, listen to what I'm saying. Where I have decided to move to is where land has not been claimed by anyone. And yet you are requesting for someone who has been here long before you came to just move over to make room for your people."

"It's the least she can do! My people keep her protected from so many things! Not only that, but if it weren't for me she wouldn't have half the things she has due to the trades I've agreed to!" he argued.

"And I'm sure she's very grateful for that, America. But for you to just decide something like that," Antonio started.

"I'm not just deciding! I asked," he pressed. "I asked...and yet every time I do ask I never get what I want."

Antonio looked at him and shook his head. "Well then have you ever considered asking Matthew about letting you move up north?"

America narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "That land is Canada. There is no way that I can change the border separation now."

"Then how about Francis? The Louisiana Country is technically your land right? So why don't you ask him if you can just take it over? After all, he's been so busy fighting right now I highly doubt he has time to keep up with this land."

America looked away and sat back down slowly. "I doubt he would. He's more focused on showing the world his power, and having such a large piece of land on the North American continent is the best way to prove to everyone just how resourceful he is."

Antonio smiled. "But like you said it is your land," he said standing up slowly, seeing the solider at the door. "Look, if the results don't go the way that you want them to go, then I will consider giving you La Florida to call your own."

America looked up to him a bit surprised. "You...you will?"

Antonio chuckled. "I can see it in your eyes, America, that one day you will be something great. And if I stay your ally, then maybe I will have nothing to worry about in the future."

America laughed. "I see. You're only saying that because you have only just now figured out how bad it is to go up against neighboring countries that are more powerful than you. Like Brother Francis."

Antonio walked over to the door and grabbed the door handle, opening it slowly. "I wouldn't say that exactly, seeing as if Francis and I already have an alliance, but I only hope that you or Matthew never make the same mistakes that I did."

America looked down at the table and lifted himself out of the chair. "I will take my leave now."

Antonio moved aside as the soldiers began to file in. "Leaving so soon?"

"Well, you seem as if you are busy and I don't want to intrude. Besides like you said, there is one more person I need to talk to before I can claim La Florida as my land," he said with confidence.

"And what exactly do you think you can say to convince Francis to give up some, if any, of his land," Antonio asked as he looked over to him interested.

"It's big brother France," he said as he stepped off of the steps. "How hard can it be?"

~Montreal, Canada~

The soft repeated knock at the door irritated Matthew's ears as he swung his legs over the bed. He opened his eyes slowly and rubbed them before making his way over to the front door in the dimly lit hall. He reached for the door knob and raised an eyebrow as he saw who was on the other side of the door.

"America?" he asked as he took a step back. The rain that was pouring from the night sky was splashing onto his bare chest.

"Save the greetings for later, Matt," America chattered through his teeth and looked behind him. "Can I come in?"

Matthew stepped aside and nodded as he let a small yawn escape his lips before closing the door behind him. "I thought you weren't talking to me," he said as he ran his hand through his bed head and placed his other hand on his bare hips above his underwear.

America looked through his wet bangs at him and slid his shoes off. "Clearly that has been revoked," he said as he bent over to take his socks off.

"Clearly," Matthew said as he watched him and leaned against the side of the stair case.

"You wouldn't happen to have a change of clothes I can borrow until mine dries now will you?" America asked softly.

Matthew grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I could spare something for you."

America pulled the soaked shirt over his head and let it fall onto the floor next to his shoes. "You're too generous Matt, really," he said sarcastically and looked over to him as he began unbuttoning his pants.

"Right," Matthew said as he looked away and began climbing the stairs. "The least you can do is wipe up all that water you tracked into my house," he commented back.

America laughed under his breath and nodded. "Oh, I'll wipe it up alright."

Matthew looked back at him just as America was dropping his wet pants. He shook his head and continued up the stairs towards his bedroom. He opened the drawers and ran his hands over the soft cotton. He could have guessed the reason why America had came here, and to be perfectly honest, he didn't know what to say to him.

America looked down at the wet clothes on the ground and placed his hands on his bare hips. A droplet of water ran down his toned abs and stopped at the tip of his thumb. "Alright," he said to himself and bent over picking up the clothes. "Let's do this." He smiled walking into the kitchen. He looked up to the ceiling, hearing Matthew's footsteps on the second floor. A grin came to his face as he laid the clothes on the counter and grabbed a towel.

Matthew grabbed the dry clothes and walked slowly down the stairs. He stopped on the second to last step looking over the railing with wide eyes.

America was naked and on his knees wiping up the trail of water from the kitchen to the door. He looked up at Matthew through his barely dry hair, his blue eyes sparklingly with excitement. "Looks good to you?" he asked.

Matthew looked away quickly, a slight blush coming to his face. "You still find any excuse to get naked don't you?" he asked holding the clothes out to him.

America stood up slowly and walked closer to him. "You're one to talk. You're only wearing your underwear," he teased.

"That may be true, but I was sleeping in _my_ bed so I think I have a right," he said, still not looking at him.

America moved even closer to him and laughed softly. "Come now, we are brothers are we not?"

Matthew shoved the clothes into his chest and walked around him towards the kitchen. "That doesn't mean I enjoy looking at you."

America turned his head and smiled walking after him. "Well excuse me for intruding on your peaceful slumber."

Matthew began hanging a line up in front of the window and pinned the drying clothes over a bucket. "You came here for a reason, no?"

"Straight to the point as usual," he sighed and leaned against the counter. "To answer your question, yes. There is something I came here to discuss."

Matthew finished hanging the rest of the clothes and moved to get a kettle out of the cabinet. Starting a small fire to warm it up with he turned to look at his brother. "With me?"

America grabbed the underwear out of the dry clothes pile and slipped them on. "Not necessarily, but I won't prevent you from listening in on the conversation."

"I had a feeling you came here looking for Francis," Matthew said softly and poured a bit of milk into the warming kettle. "I'm sorry to disappoint you but he's not here."

"Oh, but I know he will be soon. He always comes to see you first," America scoffed.

"Yes," he said as he carefully turned the kettle around. "This isn't about what we talked about at our last meeting is it?"

"Depends on what you mean," America shrugged leaning against the counter, feeling the warmth of the fire on his bare skin. "We talked about a lot of things during our last meeting."

"I mean about your brilliant idea to expand your borders," he said sarcastically.

America grinned and nodded moving closer to the fire. "Nothing gets past you Matt."

"Well what other reason would you have to travel all the way up here in this weather?" he asked looking back to the fire smugly.

"Are you saying that I'm so heartless that I wouldn't come up here just to see my own brother?" America asked wrapping his arm around Matthew's shoulder.

Matthew grabbed a pair of mittens and took the kettle from the fire. "No. Not at all, though you already admitted that I am not the person you came here to talk to." He smiled, moving to get two cups out. "So that makes me right. Oui?" he asked cutely.

America poured his own cup of warm milk and sat down on the stool by the fire. "I suppose. But I'm not a bad guy, right?"

Just then, lightening flashed outside of the window causing Matthew to jump slightly. "N-no. I guess not," he stuttered taking his cup shakily.

America stood up and grabbed the piled of clothes on the counter. "Fine, well then I suppose I will leave you be. You look like you need to be going back to sleep anyways."

Matthew watched him and nodded slowly. "Yes, you're right. I should be getting to sleep and so should you so... goodnight."

America waved over his shoulder as he walked towards the stairs sleepily.

Matthew stood up and finished off the rest of the milk before putting the fire out. He sighed and made his way through the dark, familiar hallway before climbing the stairs.

He walked into his bedroom and looked to the bed. America was lying face down with his arms and legs spread out over the entire space. Matthew walked over to him and shook his head, laughing a little. He pulled the covers over his brother and took a step back. He looked so harmless when his eyes were closed and his mouth was shut. Matthew couldn't help but watch him a little longer. The sound of his soft breathing mixed with the tapping of the rain on the window was surprisingly soothing.

He shook his head again and walked out of the room quietly. He then made his way into the next room and laid down under a blanket. "Brother, I only hope that...that everything works out in the end," he said to himself before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning came quickly and the chirping of the birds outside of the window woke Matthew up from his deep sleep. He stretched his arms and legs before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

The smell of burnt maple sugar filled his nostrils as he jumped out of the bed and wobbly ran down the stairs remembering he had company. "America! America where are..."

Before he could finish his sentence he ran into the wall and fell backwards onto his butt. When he regained his composure he realized it wasn't a wall, but a person.

"Matthew, you're awake," Francis said softly as he turned around and looked down at the blonde boy. His face and legs had bandages on them and his blue eyes seemed to have lost their sparkle.

"Brother France! What are you doing here and-" He paused and looked him up and down. "What happened to you?"

Francis laughed and placed his hands on his hips. "I could ask you the same thing. It's not like you to walk around in the nude."

Matthew looked down at himself and blushed. "I'm not nude and I live here so..."

America walked into the hall fully clothed and raised an eyebrow. "I'm right here, and before you ask yes, I did burn some of the syrup."

Matthew was trying to collect his thoughts but it wasn't coming fast enough. He stood up and walked back up the stairs slowly. "I'm going to get dressed," he said softly.

Francis nodded. "I guess that makes me in charge of breakfast then."

America looked to Francis and sighed. "May I talk to you?" he asked once Matthew was well away from the stairs.

Francis nodded and made his way to the kitchen. "Is something bothering you?"

"Why would you ask that?" America questioned.

"You came all the way up here to meet me," Francis replied simply as he wrapped a long apron around his waist. "It's unlike you, and I highly doubt you were missing me so much that you had to see me as soon as I got back."

"No," America said sharply. "I just needed to talk to you about these neighbors of ours."

Francis had been begun preparing ingredients when he suddenly stopped as he heard those words. "I don't like the way you said that, it worries me. Has-has something happened?"

America leaned against the counter and watched him carefully. "No, not really. I went and spoke with Makawee and Antonio, but I didn't get the answer I was hoping for. So I am hoping you won't be the same."

Francis looked up from the steel pan and raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you want to talk country to country then state your business."

America let out a small sigh and pushed himself off the counter. "I want to expand my borders. My people are growing at an amazing pace, and with all of the money we've been getting from the trades we finally have enough to build a few more towns. The only problem is we don't have the space."

"And how do I come into this?" Francis asked as he put more logs into the fire.

"Makawee told me that she couldn't do me the favor of moving further west because it wasn't her land to move into. So I went to talk to Antonio about it since he not only has control of the southern portion of the continent, but he also has taken over the west. He told me that I should talk to you about taking over the Louisiana Country," he explained.

Francis looked up at him from the hot pan and raised an eyebrow. "He suggested that?"

America nodded. "Well, it shouldn't be a surprise. I mean after all it is _my_ land that I was lending to you correct? Besides if I take that and La Florida into my possession then I will have more than enough space."

Francis continued to cook and stared into the fire. "I see," he said softly and shook his head. "What makes you think that you can take La Florida into your possession?"

"Antonio said that I could have it. Regardless of what you say, though, I hope you will see that what I am asking for is not too much," America said smoothly.

"Well I must say I am definitely impressed that you went and actually talked to them yourself," Francis grinned.

"You act as if I can't do anything," he challenged as he took a step closer to him.

Francis continued setting up the food and rolled his eyes, growing irritated. "Don't try me right now, America. After all, I was the one who got you to the place you are now."

Matthew then walked into the kitchen, now also fully clothed, and looked between the two nervously. He could feel the tension in the air and he wanted to ease it as soon as possible. "Food smells great!" he smiled and walked over to the pan, poking it with a knife to release some of the steam.

America ignored Matthew and laughed a little. "And that's supposed to mean something to me? Whether you helped or not doesn't mean you can permanently claim so much of my land."

Francis moved Matthew aside and walked over to America standing right in front of him. "Well you tell me then what your brilliant plan is."

America stared him straight in the eyes and smiled. He placed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "Exactly what I just told you before. I'm going to claim that land as mine."

"America, stop it," Matthew said as he turned to face the two. "You can't just take that land without permission."

America looked over to him and frowned. "Oh? And why can't I?"

Matthew placed both of his hands on the counter and sighed. "Because you signed a treaty, remember?"

"Treaty? What treaty?" America asked confused.

Francis nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "Come now America it hasn't been that long has it? Remember the little document stating that no country between the five of us will negatively interfere with another ones territory? After all you're still _my_ colony."

America gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. "You can't expect me to think that this is fair."

"You signed the paper, America, so obviously you thought it was." Francis grinned.

"I was a child then! How was I supposed to know then that the little corner of the continent wasn't going to be enough?" he protested.

"You're out voted, America," Francis said smugly. "Just give it up."

America grabbed Francis by the shirt collar and slammed him against the wall. "You think I can just go back to my people empty handed and tell them no?"

Francis kept his cool and shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said, sacrifices have to be made."

America looked him angrily in the eyes briefly before pushing him away. He quickly exited the room and ran towards the front hall.

"America!" Matthew yelled and began running after him, but Francis grabbed his wrist.

"No Matthew, let him go."

"But what if he does something? We have to stop him!" Matthew cried.

Francis kept hold of him and shook his head. "No. He needs to learn that he can't always get his way. Even if that means learning the hard way."

~1752 Charleston, South Carolina~

The American people grew more and more restless as each day passed. America stood before them in the middle of the city and held out his hands to the angry crowd. "My people! I feel your pain and frustration. What the other inhabitants of this continent fail to realize is just how powerful we have become!"

"Then let's show them just how serious we are," a man in the crown yelled up at him.

"Yeah! Why do we have to keep slaving away while they reap the benefits of all we do for them?" a woman protested.

"It will only be a little bit longer," America assured them.

"How much longer?" another man asked. "We should just rebel! Stop the trades! Destroy their properties and make them come to us!"

"Yeah! For how long have we just gone along with their plans and doeverything we were told like children listening to their parents?" another woman yelled. "We've giving them more profit than they deserve and more goods for less value! Before we know it they'll come here taking over _our_ land too!"

"She's right! If we don't speak our demands louder who knows what might happen? We are surrounded by them with nothing but the sea at our backs!" the first man nodded.

"And if we just continue to let them push us around we could disappear completely without a trace!" the second man added.

America closed his eyes and held his head. All of the anger, the frustration, and the pain were overtaking him over faster than he could bear. His thoughts were not his own anymore, but the words of his spiteful people. Images of burning buildings and injured countrymen slowly filled his mind.

"Let us go! We've held back for long enough!" the first man raised his fist.

The crowd then went into a frantic frenzy; throwing out suggestions of all the damage they could do to the French, Spanish and Native Americans to get them to surrender the land.

America opened his eyes and lowered his hands. "My people!" his voice boomed over the rustling crowd, quickly getting their attention. "If you want to do this then we must do it properly. We must have a plan…"

"And do you have one, sir?" the second man asked looking up to America.

"I do." He grinned. "After all I know the layout of this land better than anyone else. I will show you where to go."

~ Border of the western Louisiana Country~

A meeting was called between the resident nations of the North American continent to discuss the behavior of the "American" citizens. Signs and printed papers were being posted all over demanding to let them have the land that is rightfully theirs. Buildings have been destroyed or vandalized, properties burned to the ground, and trade goods stolen.

"This has gone on far enough," Francis said as he stood up in front of the other three nations. His eyes were serious and there wasn't a trace of happiness on his face. He was already in the middle of another war; he didn't need this right now. He let out a small sigh and turned his backs to them, placing his hands behind his back.

"Even if we say something to him there is no guarantee that he will listen," Makawee sighed as she ran her hand through her hair. Her eyes were duller and her body looked fragile. If this abuse on her land continued, she didn't know how much longer she would last.

"Well then we have to make him listen," Antonio said as he crossed his legs and adjusted himself in the chair. He was still wrapped up in bandages from his last battle and with his people living in La Florida getting anxious, so was he.

"Have you guys ever stopped to think that maybe compromising with him is the best way to go?" Matthew chimed in softly. He sat up straight in the chair and looked between the three.

Francis laughed and looked over to Matthew shaking his head. "Compromising? At this stage in the game he will take all or nothing."

Matthew sighed. "How do you know? You all haven't talked to him in how long? And maybe all he wants is-is for someone to listen."

Antonio laughed a little and shook his head. "You have way too much optimism Matthew. And for that I must say I envy you. However, realistically speaking, he won't stop until he gets what he wants. I could see it in his eyes the last time we met. He means business."

"That scares me," Makawee said softly and rested her head in her hands.

"Don't show any fear towards him. That's exactly what he wants. To feel as if he can control us just by throwing a little temper tantrum," Francis growled.

"And what do you propose we do?" Matthew asked hoping that he wasn't going to give him the answer that he was thinking in the back of his own mind.

"Teach him a lesson," Francis said simply.

"You can't mean..." Makawee looked up at him concerned.

"Francis you know that isn't a good idea," Antonio interrupted. "There is no way his people would stand a chance in a battle, especially not against you or me."

"I refuse to fight him," Matthew said firmly.

"And what makes you say that so quickly Matthew?" Francis interrogated. "After all, I don't see you jumping at the opportunity to give him some of your land."

Matthew slouched down in his chair. "I don't have much land to begin with. Besides he already said that he doesn't want my land because it's already been labeled as Canada."

"I also refuse to fight him," Antonio said standing up.

Francis looked over to him surprised. "What?"

Antonio shook his head. "There is no way I'm going to go up against a child like him. There is no real gain for me to risk losing all of the hard work I've put into developing Mexico."

"So you're just going to walk away just like that?" Francis asked angrily.

"You're the French Empire," he replied, smirking. "You don't need my help now do you?"

"This isn't about needing your help! This about showing him that what he's doing is wrong and that he needs to be put in his place!" Francis retaliated. "I don't want to fight him, really I don't. But if he continues this behavior and if more deaths occur in my portion of the territories then I will have no choice but to take drastic measures."

"I don't agree with what he's doing, but the reasons he's doing for is something I cannot bluntly disagree with," Antonio explained. "Weren't we the same way at his age as well?"

Francis looked from Antonio to the floor. "Speak for yourself. I never said I would start anything. But I'm just telling you for the sake of your people, be prepared. Who knows where he might attack next."

Makawee stood up as well and held her head. "I can't take much more of this anymore. We have to put a stop to him or else I will," she said softly.

Matthew stood up slowly. "Let me talk to him. Maybe I can try and talk some sense into him. He seems to listen to me better than anyone else. If I can just get to him-"

Francis laughed. "Right. Just walk right into his territory and think that you can get more than three feet before being attacked."

Antonio walked over to the door of the one room cabin and shook his head. "I'm taking my leave no-" he stopped mid-sentence as the sight on the other side of the door surprised him.

America stood in the doorway with an emotionless face. He pushed past Antonio and looked around the room. "So, you decided to have a meeting without me."

Matthew scrabbled behind the chair and shook his head. "Brother no, I was just about to come and talk to you. What we want to say to you is-"

"Oh, I know exactly what's going on here. I've been listening outside long enough to know everything," America said not taking his eyes off of Francis.

Francis smirked and began walking over to him slowly. "Good. Then that saves me the breath of having to explain to you what it is you need to do."

"Cut the crap, Francis. There is nothing you can say to me to make me change my mind," America said firmly.

"Is that so?" Francis asked moving closer.

"My people have spoken and you still refuse to listen!" America snapped.

"My people have spoken as well," Francis said calmly. "And quite frankly, your actions are nothing more but cries for attention. You want something from me then take it up with me. Don't go after my people and destroy their things."

"Fine. If it's me you want then it's me you will get," America said stepping closer to him.

Francis was now face to face with him and didn't blink, watching his every move. "Is that a challenge America?"

"It is," he said simply. "Because until you give me what I wish for, consider us enemies."

Francis laughed. "Enemies? Are you starting something, little America?"

America stared into his eyes silently as the anger and determination from his people filled his eyes. "I am and I assure you France. I will take back what is rightfully mine."

* * *

_(Thanks for reading! Look out for Part 3 titled Civil War soon! ^^_

_Also some footnotes about things historical names and places used in this chapter: _

_1) The Louisiana Country, also known as French Louisiana, was under French control from 1682-1763 and 1800-1803. _

_ .org/wiki/Louisiana_%28New_France%29_

_2) La Florida, "Florida", is the oldest surviving European place-name in the United States. From 1513 onward, the land became known as La Florida, although after 1630 and throughout the 1700s it was called Tegesta (after the Teguesta tribe)_

_.org/wiki/Florida )_


	3. Civil War Remake

_Disclaimer: So I don't own any of these characters, though most of the names used in this fic are based off of real historical people._

_This is just my interpretation of how America, and the world (within Hetalia), could have been if France had won the war. So don't take it too seriously. :)_

_A special thanks to Hidekazu-sensei, and my editor Hoshiko. Thank you!_

_

* * *

_

Part 3

Civil War - Remake

~1752 Upper Louisiana Country, October~

War is something that no country ever wants to engage in with their allies. But surely a time will come when they have a disagreement and it sometimes seems unavoidable. America asked Francis nicely to give him what he wanted. As a result for letting him down, he turned to the only other thing he knew.

Ninety days had passed and the Colonists have done nothing but damage more of the French's property. Francis knew that at this rate he was going to lose even more money trying to rebuild things, then just giving the young nation a piece of his land. But he wasn't going to give up just yet.

Francis looked over to America from across the room of the abandoned log cabin. Those bright blue eyes stared at him with anger, determination, and pain. It hurt him that he had to be this way with him, but he was told that he had spoiled him long enough. It was the only explanation as to why he was acting this way.

"America, stop this now. It's been three months now and you aren't going to change my mind by engaging in something I never agreed to in the first place!" Francis pressed as he rubbed his temples. His people were beginning to suffer because he didn't want them to fight back with full power. He knew that he outnumbered the Colonists and he didn't want to wipe them out.

America watched him carefully. No matter how hard Francis tried to hide it, America could tell he was getting to him. His clothes were torn, his eyes were tired and he was hanging on by a thread. Francis couldn't handle this and all of the other conflicts going on outside the revolt as well. He would cave soon.

"Then tell me Francis, why is it that I have to do all of this? Why can't you just do as I ask? You and I both know it would be in your best interest to do so!" America argued.

"And how do you know what is in my best interest?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"You seem to think that me not having the land is in mine!" America retaliated.

"Listen, I've been alive a lot longer than you have. And I know a hell of a lot more than you may give me credit for," Francis explained.

"Or could it be that you're just afraid?" America challenged.

"For what reason would I need to be afraid, America? To put it simply, you aren't a real threat to me. You can destroy my properties and take the lives of my people. But in the grand scheme of things you still belong to me," Francis said with a small smile.

America looked to him with a shocked face. "Is that all I am to you Francis? Is just another piece of land? A territory? A colony? What happened to me being your younger brother? What is it that you expect of me? Did I do something wrong? Have I upset you in some way?"

Francis looked away from him and sighed. "I don't want to lie to you America. Neither do I want you to feel betrayed in any way. But you just have to trust me."

"And why should I? You haven't even given me a good enough reason as to why you won't give me the land!" America yelled.

Francis looked to him and sighed. "I do have a reason."

"Then what is it?" America asked hoping that he wasn't just saying that to get him to shut up.

"I," he said as he took a slight step back. "I can't tell you."

Disappointment. That was all America had felt for the past few years. With Matthew, with Makawee and now with him. He let out a small chuckle and shook his head. "Really. So we're going to play that game?"

Francis looked away and shook his head. "There are reasons as to why I can't tell you too. My government has given me specific orders. I cannot go against them. Brother or not."

America clinched his fists and frowned. "Fine. Well tell your government this. Come talk to me before they make decisions for me," he said, turning and walking out of the abandoned cabin.

Francis sat down near the window and sighed, closing his eyes. He remembered the conversation he had with his government perfectly.

_Francis walked into the House of Bourbon meeting room and bowed his head. Sitting in front of him was the Head of the State, but he knew him better as King Louis XV. _

"_Your Majesty, please forgive my tardiness. I have been having a bit of problems to the west as you may have heard."_

_Louis looked over to Francis and gave him a less than pleasant look with his tired dark eyes. He wore a lavish black robe that was decorated with a gold threaded design. He tapped his long slender fingers on the table and motioned for him to have a seat. "It appears that boy is causing us more problems than those snooty Brits across the channel."_

_Francis laughed nervously and shook his head as he took a seat. "I'm not sure about that. But what I do know is that I have to tell him something soon or else he's going to get even more out of control."_

"_I thought you said you could handle all of that land by yourself over there Francis." He raised an eyebrow. "Should I send someone else over there to do the job?"_

"_No, your Majesty. Though I do need to know...why is it that we can't give him the land? Not even some of it?" Francis asked genuinely confused._

_Louis sat straight up in his chair and looked to Francis seriously. He folded his hands in front of him and cleared his throat. "Let me tell you something, Francis. As you know, when a large group of people with a common purpose get together, they can do anything they set their mind to. You know this better than I do don't you?"_

_Francis wasn't really following what he was getting at but nodded his head slowly. "Oui."_

"_And recent actions of these Colonists of ours have shown that they are definitely capable of doing some damage to our hard work and erasing the name of our empire off the map of America. That boy is sharp and he knows that with all of the wars and traveling you've just endured you are more susceptible to caving to his demands. But I say no," Louis said firmly._

"_Are you saying that if I give him the land, he could potentially rise up against us?" Francis asked and then laughed a little. "Your Majesty, as logical as that may sound it's impossible. America would never rise against us because he needs us to survive."_

"_Now," Louis said simply. "But once he figures out the tricks of the trade and grows beyond our control, then what control will we have over him? By keeping him contained and keeping his resources at a minimum he has nothing else to do but rely on us. Think of it this way, by giving him the land it takes more money away from us. We aren't charging Canada or America even though it was all thanks to us that they are as developed as they are today."_

"_So you think that it's a double risk. Firstly, because there is a possibility that America could rise up against us. Secondly, because taking too much land away from us would cause a great lose in our finances?" Francis asked._

_Louis nodded and smiled a little. "Now you understand."_

_Francis sighed. "That still doesn't answer how I'm supposed to deal with him. He won't stop until he gets something."_

"_Well figure something out. Talk to him. But don't tell him why we can't give him any of the land. I don't want him getting any ideas in his head. If they aren't already there to begin with," Louis mumbled, looking off suspiciously._

_Francis shook his head. "What, do you want me to lie to him? I can't do that, I..."_

"_Do whatever you have to do, Francis. But this discussion is over. Take care of this before I send someone else to do it for you," Louis said, standing up. He turned away from him._

_Francis stood up as well and bowed as he made his way out of the meeting room. He didn't think this was a good way to go about this at all. America wouldn't accept just a stern talking to and he definitely won't listen if he didn't give him a good enough reason as to why he couldn't have the land. This was going to turn out bad...he just felt it._

Sure enough, Francis' intuition that day was right. He stood up and looked out the window and clenched his fists. He must have dozed off for a while. He only hoped America hadn't gotten too far away from him.

It had been a whole three months since Louis had told him that and yet nothing happened. How was sitting around and letting this just continue going to help either of them? If it was the money that he was worried about then maybe America was right. Maybe King Louis should have just talked to America face to face.

He made his way out of the building and looked around cautiously. The deserted streets were a little too quiet and he knew that the colonists were hiding out somewhere, waiting for him to move so they could attack.

He had to find America and set things right. He knew that he couldn't go against his people or his government. But the colonists were almost as much his people as the mainland French were. So why should he deny their requests as well?

If anything he had to make a deal with America to get him to stop if only until he could explain the situation to his government. Or more like to King Louis. He took a step forward and a suddenly a bullet hit right beside his foot.

He took a step back and looked up on the roof tops, seeing someone quickly duck down. Damn it. So they _were_ waiting for him to make the first move. A small grin came to his face. These were amateur soldiers. If anything they've never seen the sight of a real battle. He could dodge them easily.

The question that was burning through his mind at that moment was what happened to the soldiers that he had brought with him? Surely they weren't taken down by these...peasants. He jumped off the front step of the cabin and began running towards the entrance of the deserted town. If he was going to find America he would have to follow the footprints in hopes that they did belong to him.

Another gunshot flew past his backside as he picked up his pace. If only he had a weapon, but even if he did he wouldn't want to hurt them. He wouldn't stoop to retaliating and killing them like America had started to do. But there was nothing on his conscience saying he couldn't injure them.

He rounded a corner and pressed his back against the side of a building. It had been a while since he had been in a war zone in this territory. It almost gave him a rush of excitement. But the reasoning behind the war zone's existence only tired him out faster. He could hear a horse and carriage trotting not too far ahead of him.

America had to be in it and he would catch a ride some way or another. He took a deep breath and made his way down the alley towards the entrance. The carriage was in sight and Francis was out of breath a bit as he dove for the back of it. He could feel a sting on the back of his leg. He was hit! Blood trickled down the back of his calf as he forced himself into the back seat.

America looked to him wide eyed and pushed him so that his head was down and out of view. "What the hell are you doing? Do you know how dangerous this is right now?"

Francis winced a bit and held his leg. "I have to talk to you America. I want to tell you the truth."

"Well I'm glad you've decided to come to your senses after all this time. What made you change your mind?" he asked.

Francis sighed and slowly lifted his leg onto the wagon bench. "I disagree with what my government has told me. You have every right to know what is going on."

"Then tell me Francis. Tell me and I'll stop my people for good," he said surely.

Francis nodded and watched as America took a canteen and washed blood off the back of his calf. America then ripped a part of his own shirt sleeve off and tied it tightly around Francis' wound. "His Majesty is afraid that if I give you more room that it will take more money away from the mainland France."

America chuckled as he began wiping up the blood from the seat. "Somehow I'm not surprised at that reason," he said looking up at him. "What else did he say?" he asked knowing that there was something more to it.

Francis winced as he moved his leg down. "He's afraid you might become too powerful and revolt against me if you grow in resources and population. The way you are now...he has a better monitor on you. He doesn't want to give that up."

America looked into his eyes with pure confusion. "He thinks that? What would give him that idea? It's only _because_ of the mainland that we are as prosperous as we are now. Why would I break away from something that is providing us with everything that we need?"

"More and more outside nations are discussing opening trade with Canada and America. Not necessarily through me, but through Spain. I have no control over who he trades with over here, but I don't think Louis wants you or Matthew directly interacting with anyone."

"Afraid we might get ideas in our heads or something?" he asked as if it was something ridiculous.

"Probably," Francis sighed. "But I'm going to take action myself. By letting you have some of the land."

America looked to him a bit suspiciously. "How do I know that this isn't a trap? I mean after all only you and I are here to witness this."

"Would you rather we wait until there was someone else around?" Francis asked.

America looked to him and then away. "It's not that I don't trust you Francis but..."

Francis shook his head. "I understand. I actually don't blame you for feeling this way," he said and slouched down against the seat. "I can take a beating from the king for doing this. But you...it's not your fault that you want something back that originally belonged to you."

America sighed. "Why couldn't you have realized this long ago?" he laughed a little.

"Don't ask questions. Just be happy I'm doing this for you to begin with," Francis grinned.

The next two days the two spent that time traveling across the central lands of the Louisiana country. The one witness and consultant that Francis wanted there when this deal was made had to be Makawee. Not only because she knew a lot more about the land further west, but America would be moving further into her territory if this really were to work.

When they arrived at the border town that Makawee had usually stationed herself, Francis looked to America and climbed out of the carriage carefully.

"You really should have someone take that bullet out of your leg," America said for the twentieth time since he wrapped it up.

Francis laughed. "Don't worry. I have it all under control. The most important thing to me right now is saving both our people from suffering anymore. Oui?"

America nodded his head slowly and followed after him. "I...I guess," he said leading him over to the teepee. "Makawee! If you are home please allow us entrance!"

There was silence for some time before the cloth was pulled back and she looked at the two with curious eyes. "Francis? What happened to your leg?"

He laughed a little and looked up at her. "We can talk about that later. For now I need to ask of you a favor."

"A favor? In this condition? At least let me heal your wounds before we start negotiating business terms," she suggested.

America walked past her and took Francis over to the pile of pillows that were lying on the floor. "Makawee, we are sorry to intrude on such short notice, but I would like to think that this matter is important."

"If you mean Francis' condition then yes, I would have to agree with you," she said softly collecting all of the medical tools. She then moved over to him and untied the shirt sleeved bandage from around his wound, washing it off.

America sat down on the other side of Francis so not to be in the way. He watched the procedure closely and let out a small sigh.

"Your people did this to him, didn't they?" Makawee asked without looking up or stopping as she cut into the wound.

Francis clenched his fists as he felt the skin of his leg open up more and the blood run out of the side. He held back his screams of pain even though he didn't know how much longer he could hold on before passing out.

"How do you know that?" America asked as he looked up at her and away from the bloody sight.

"I recognize this type of wound. The bullet that made it had to come from the guns that your men use. Am I correct?" she asked carefully trying to take the bullet out.

America looked away feeling a bit ashamed even though it wasn't really his fault. If Francis had just done what he asked in the first place then none of them would be in this mess. "Well yes, but I wasn't the one who..."

"Hand me that wet towel, quickly!" she ordered as she now held the bullet between her fingers.

America looked to where she had indicated and dove for the rag, handing it out to her in a sort of panic.

"Wipe up this blood quickly or I won't be able to stitch him up," she said quickly and moved to wipe her hands and prepare the needle.

Francis was gasping for air. He closed his eyes as he felt the sweat trickle down from his scalp towards his eyes. The pain was almost unbearable for him. It felt as if there was a poison running through his body and slowly eating him alive, though he knew that wasn't the case.

"Is he going to be okay? He's losing a lot of blood," America asked as he wiped around and under the wound for her.

"Just think of it as the blood from all of his wounded people," she said softly before moving to connect the first parts of the stitch. "I'm sure this isn't the first time he's felt this pain."

America closed his eyes and turned away as he heard Francis' scream from the needle making its way in and out of his skin. He almost couldn't stand to stay in the room as he felt like the pain was pounding against his own heart.

Makawee looked over to America before quickly returning to her task. She knew that the reason the two were here had to do with America getting more land. But could she really just give it up that easily? Even if Francis made the request as well? Once she finished the stitching and cleaning of the wound she moved to wipe Francis' still face with a clean towel. "Poor thing," she whispered to herself as she felt his faint breathing.

America moved all of the dirty utensils and towels into the cleaning bin he saw her using. He then took a deep breath and stood up. "I'm sorry," he said softly and exited the teepee.

Makawee didn't turn to look at him. She wasn't sure if he was talking to her...or to Francis. Either way, her lips lifted to a small smile.

An hour later Francis stirred in his sleep. He lifted his hand to his head and sat up slowly as a hissing sound escaped his lips. He looked down to see his leg was now properly wrapped up. He looked around the teepee and noticed that he was the only one inside. But the strong aroma of seasoned cooked meat flowed freely through the curtained door. He began to lift himself up by leaning on the small table next to where he was lying. But as soon as he tried to move his leg he slipped and fell backwards causing the table to fall over. "AH!"

Makawee rushed into the teepee and gasped. "Francis! What happened here?" she asked running over and picking the table up.

Francis laughed a little and shook his head. "Apparently the table didn't agree with my idea of getting up."

America chuckled under his breath when he walked in to see what all of the commotion was. "Wow. I thought you were in here having a battle or something."

Francis rolled his eyes and sat up again. "I take it you two had a talk already?"

Makawee nodded. "America explained to me the situation and why it is you two really came here."

America sat down next to Francis and sighed. "Makawee said she agrees to give us some of the land to the northwest that hasn't really been developed. She said it would give me a good opportunity to learn about exploring and developing land on my own."

Francis rubbed his head and looked over to her. "Are you sure you're okay with this? I mean...I don't want you to think that we are forcing you to do anything."

Makawee shook her head. "Of course not. The land to the north is not inhabited anyways. I'm sure the few of my people who do live there would not mind the colonists moving up. If anything it would be more beneficial for them since they are already so far away from the main group."

America nodded in agreement. "So she showed me on the map how far I could go before I was venturing into Antonio's 'territory'."

Francis looked to the map that America handed him and nodded. It was a large circle surrounding where the current Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas and half of Oklahoma was. "This is a lot of land America. Do you think you can handle all of that?"

America smiled confidently. "But of course. It's what we've been preparing for."

Makawee stood up and nodded. "Good. I'm glad I was able to help settle this. Now let's get you some food Francis. Don't want you fainting again."

America laughed and stood up as well.

"I didn't faint! I passed out from pain!" he yelled to the two, defending his pride.

Makawee grabbed some bowls for putting the stew in and softly laughed. "I assure you that you were definitely present for the stitching. So it couldn't be anything but fainting."

America continued to laugh as he walked out of the teepee holding his stomach.

Francis looked up at her and smiled. "Thank you Makawee. I couldn't have done this without your help."

Makawee shook her head. "I was only doing what I thought was right. I'm more concerned about you. Does your government know about this new agreement?"

Francis looked away. "No. But I am sure I can convince them that this wasn't a mistake."

Makawee looked towards the curtain door and sighed softly. "I only hope you're right."

~1753 Paris, France January~

It had been a devastating winter for both French people on both the main land and in the American territory. After the revolt with the colonist had been resolved, Francis quickly went to work rebuilding all that was destroyed in the Louisiana country. The only problem was the colonists had done a lot more damage than he imagined.

His people there didn't have enough money or resources to rebuild everything in time for winter. What made things worse was the colonists were advancing fast in the new land that they had inherited. Francis was called to see the Louis sooner than he had planned. He knew he was wrong for him not telling him right away about his decision in giving America the land. But he didn't want it revoked before America even had a chance to try.

He nervously stood outside of the meeting room and paced back and forth. Finally he decided that it was time to go in and face his fate. He opened the door and walked slowly into the meeting room. "Your Majesty, I..."

"Sit," Louis said sharply as he looked up from his papers at Francis. He watched his every move until the country was sitting down in the chair across the table from him. His eyes narrowed even more as the seconds went by. "Explain to me," he said slamming the papers down in front of him. "What this is?"

Francis looked down at the papers and bit his lower lip. "It appears to me to be agreement papers. For the undeveloped land that..."

"Exactly. Agreement papers. Now could you please enlighten me and tell me whose signatures are at the bottom of this document?"

Francis looked to him and then down at the papers again. "Makawee, America and..."

"Yours," he said snatching the papers away. "What makes you think you can make such a major decision on your own? Those colonies belong to ME!"

Francis sighed. "Your Majesty, I apologize. I know it was wrong of me to do this without your permission or the permission of the government. But I assure you that nothing will go wrong. America gave me his word that he had no intention of going against us. And just as he promised, in the past few months all he has been doing is trying to develop his new land."

"This little project of his is costing us way too much money! Do you realize how long it's taking to rebuild all of the things he's torn down and destroyed in Louisiana Country?"

"Yes, your Majesty, I do. I'm there working alongside them to rebuild and..."

"And you ran out of money," Louis said angrily. "So you thought you would casually send a messenger here to ask me for more money?"

"I don't think I would call it casually, but you act as if I wasn't going to tell you about it ever, your Majesty," Francis said nervously.

"And when were you going to tell me? It's been months, Francis!" he yelled standing up from his chair. "So I have decided to come up with my own solution to the problem."

Francis shook his head. "No. No! You can't take that land away from them!"

Louis smirked. "Oh I'm not going to take it away from them. I'm just going to make them pay for it."

"Pay for it?" Francis asked a bit worried.

"Yes," he said holding up some papers. "I've come up with a list of taxes and a few of laws for them. This way we keep control over them and you get the money you need to rebuild."

"Do you really think this will go over well with them?" Francis asked.

Louis handed him the stack of papers. "I could care less. You are going to give them this message from me. And no will not be accepted as an answer."

"But your Majesty..." Francis started.

Louis shoved the papers into his hand. "You're dismissed."

Francis looked down at the papers and sighed, leaving the room without another word. He didn't know how he was going to explain this to America. But he only hoped that this went over well with him.

By the time he had gotten back to the coast of America, somehow the people had heard word of these rumored laws. He wasn't sure how he was going to break it to them that they were indeed real. He had reached the mayor's cabin. He knocked on the door and took a deep breath.

The mayor opened the door and looked to him with a raised eyebrow. "I wasn't expecting a visit from you today, Sir. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Francis held out the envelope. "I bring a message from King Louis XV."

The mayor took the envelope and looked up at Francis. "Please come in."

Francis shook his head and turned away. "I'm sorry, but I must decline. If you have any questions about the message please do not hesitate to come find me or the officials."

The mayor watched him curiously and then looked to the papers as he walked back into the cabin.

Francis made his way quickly to the French secondary official building and walked in. Of course they were well aware of these new laws. They may have even had a say in the voting and didn't tell Francis.

"Well _Monsieur_ Bonnefoy, I must say it is good to see you survived the wrath of the King," governor Marquis de Vaudreuil-Cavagnal grinned.

"You knew about this plan of his all along didn't you?" Francis asked trying not to sound to upset.

"How could I not? I am a part of the council on the mainland. When the papers got to me I thought it was a superb idea. Taxing the colonists? One only has to wonder why we didn't just do that in the first place."

"You know exactly why," Francis said shortly.

"Come now, Sir. Surely you can't be upset that I didn't tell you? Besides it will teach them a little responsibility."

"How is that?" Francis asked, dying to hear what ridiculous reason he was going to give him.

"Because. If he wants to be treated like an adult then he's going to have to act like one. _Oui_?"

Francis didn't even know what to say. He had to get out of here and fast. He didn't want to be around when the colonists decided to come over here and raid with anger.

~1753 Quebec March~

Matthew looked up from his bowl of stew upon hearing the knock on his front door. He wiped his mouth as he stood up walking over and opening it.

On the other side, Francis stood looking a little worse than usual. "I hope you aren't busy."

"Brother Francis!" he said in a slight panic and led him into the house. "Where have you been? People have been looking everywhere for you!"

Francis laughed a little and leaned against the stair case. "I know. That's the reason I've been running around so much."

"What's going on? America told me that you finally agreed to give him some of the land. But I also heard that his Majesty was not pleased about this decision."

"He wasn't," Francis said remembering that day all too well. "What all have you heard?"

"Well I know the American colonists are not happy about these new laws of yours. To be taxed right as they are trying to develop a new land. In the winter no less. Don't you think that's a little harsh?" Matthew asked.

Francis nodded. "But it wasn't my idea. I actually had no say in it at all."

Matthew walked into the kitchen and sat down, sighing. "Well you need to tell that to America. He thinks that you're mad at him or something."

"Why would I be mad at him?" Francis asked confused.

"I don't know. He said something about revenge for him destroying a good portion of the Louisiana Country," Matthew explained.

"That's the reason his Majesty did it not me," Francis said and shook his head. "No. The fact of the matter is, Louis didn't want America to have that land. That's what he's really angry about."

"But why? Does he really see him as that much of a threat? I mean, we are a part of your empire. The greatest empire in all of the seas! Why would America risk something so...so stupid?"

Francis sat down and shrugged. "My thoughts exactly. I just hope that he isn't too angry about the whole taxes thing. But I am in desperate need of some money. The rest of the money we are getting from the other colonies are helping us prepare for war."

"War? Again? Brother you must stop. You're going to drive yourself mad."

"It's not me," Francis sighed. "They're the ones who want my power and wealth."

"Who?" Matthew asked curiously.

"Europe."

Matthew laughed at his vague answer and shook his head. "Brother not everyone is your enemy. Besides you should let Antonio and the others take care of this war."

Francis shook his head. "Once Gilbert gets the okay, Arthur is going to jump at the opportunity to fight with me again. And as my pact says if Antonio gets into it...well then I must be there to aid. I'm just worried though. The Spanish have been acting a little weird lately. Development in the land to the south has taken longer than he hoped."

"Is that way he's been moving up north along the coast? Makawee said some of her tribes spotted them setting up camps around there," Matthew shrugged.

"I don't know. But I might have to have a chat with him soon if all of this war talk does actually begin," Francis frowned.

"Brother I'm worried about you. You're biting off way more than you can chew."

"Trust me, Matthew. If I could have the easy life that you have I would take it in a second. But then again I don't think I would want you to have all of the responsibility of war and..."

"Matthew! Matthew where are you!" America's voice came from the entryway.

"Oh no..." Francis whispered. "Maybe I should leave."

"No Brother. You need to talk to him now while you can. While no one else is around," Matthew said as he walked towards the front hall. "I'm here America! Brother is here as well!"

"Francis! Get in here!" America yelled shoving past Matthew. "What the hell is this?" he asked slamming a stack of papers in front of him. "Do you really expect for me to be able to pay these taxes every month? It's bad enough this winter has brought us little to no crops!"

Francis looked at the papers and then looked back up at America. "I'm sorry America...I can't take no for an answer. They'll take the money whether you hand it over peacefully or not."

"And why should I pay for this? You aren't suddenly laying laws and taxes on Matthew! Do you really dislike me that much?"

"No!" Francis yelled standing up suddenly. "His Majesty saw this the only way fit for you to help rebuild what you destroyed!"

"I lent you my men, even though I need them out west. Isn't that good enough?"

"Not when we don't have the money or the resources to continue," Francis sighed. "Do you realize just how much damage was done? I have people without places to live...still! And it's been months!"

"Why can't the mainland just give you money?" America asked finally.

"Because...you have to be responsible for your actions America," Francis frowned turning away from him. "Meaning you have to fix what you've done."

"To be fair," Matthew butted in quietly. "This wasn't Brother's idea. He actually didn't even have a say in it."

"I don't care if the Pope himself wrote this," America said, picking the papers back up and waving them. "I'm sick of people deciding things for me without my permission!"

Matthew took the papers from him and began reading over them. "Original colonies...what does it mean by that?"

Francis turned to face the two. "It means only the people leaving on the east coast, the original colonists, are allowed to have any say when it comes to representing America."

"So the people who are settling in the west are not allowed to have a say in anything?" Matthew asked curiously.

Francis shook his head. "That's what it says."

America shook his head. "All of my people should have a say when it comes to these issues. Or is that another part of the King's plan; to get the people to the west to feel inferior and move back to the coast so they can feel important?"

"I don't know," Francis said truthfully. "But what I do know is you should be careful. If you go against his Majesty...you go against me and your own people on the mainland."

America looked between the two and snatched the papers from Matthew before walking out.

Matthew sighed and shook his head. "I don't know why but I feel so bad for him."

Francis laughed a little and began walking out of the room as well. "Just promise me one thing Matthew."

"Anything," he said softly.

"Don't start a revolt without talking to me first," Francis said before walking out of the house.

Matthew heard the door close and sat back down in his chair. This was going to be a long and miserable winter. For all of them.

~1753 North West American Territory May~

Winter had finally passed and the soil was more abundant than the colonists had expected. Being landlocked and away from the coast, they didn't expect much luck with growing food, just raising and hunting livestock. But much to their surprise it was like a cropping gold mine.

The only problem America now had to deal with now was the even distribution of the colonies money. As much as the colonists wanted to expand to better up their profits, the now "original" colonies were letting the new laws get to their head. They figured that since they were the originals then they could boss the new territories around; giving them only as much money as they thought they needed, which wasn't enough, even when combined with the good trade they were getting with the Canadians and the Indians.

America was exhausted from running back and forth, trying to please everyone while keeping everyone fed and safe at the same time. He hadn't seen or heard word from Francis, but from what he heard from Matthew he was preparing for war again.

This was bad for him because majority of his profits and resources were coming from the mainland. If they decide to pull back to use it for another war, he didn't know what he would do. Francis didn't recommend opening trade with other countries, per the king of course, but it wasn't forbidden.

If things got worse he would have to either pitch the idea or just go along with his gut feeling. America closed the folder and stood up stretching. "Why should I tell them anything? They make decisions for me on their own all the time. What harm would come of me opening trade with other countries?" he asked to no one in particular. He looked around his new cabin that was located at the center of one of the new villages.

It was nice here. The air was fresher, the soil was richer and most of all the weather was becoming more and more spectacular. He opened the window and took in a deep breath. A small smile came to his face and he gazed out at his new settlement.

He squinted his eyes a little and stuck his head out the window. "Is that...smoke?" he asked himself. A grayish cloud and light from a flame came up from the edge of the village. He shook his head and went back into the cabin. It was probably just wood burning. Nothing serious.

Before he could even get back to his seat there was a loud banging noise coming from outside. His front door flew open and a villager ran into the room. "Sir! We have trouble!"

America looked over to him and noticed the fear in his eyes. "What's going on? What happened?"

"It's the Spanish...they're...they're attacking!" the young men said terrified.

"What?" America said rushing out the door and looking to where the smoke was coming from. It was thickening. "Could that be...gunpowder?"

The young man ran up behind him and nodded. "They've been kidnapping the women and demanding that we leave this land for it will soon belong to them anyways."

"You've got to be kidding me," America said as he ran out towards the edge of town.

* * *

(Thanks for reading! Look out for Chapter 4 titled Seven Years' War - Re modified coming soon!

_Also some footnotes about things, historical names, and places used in this chapter: _

_1) Governor Pierre François de Rigaud, Marquis de Vaudreuil-Cavagnal was governor of French Louisiana (1743–1753) and in 1755 became the last governor of New France . _

_/wiki/Pierre_Fran%C3%A7ois_de_Rigaud,_Marquis_de_Vaudreuil-Cavagnal_

_2) The soon to be war that Francis and Matthew are referring to is the Seven Year's War (aka in North America as the French and Indian War)._

_3) King Louis XV ruled as King of France and of Navarre from 1 September 1715 until his death on 10 May 1774. _

_/wiki/Louis_XV_of_France )  
_


	4. Seven Years' War Remodified

_Disclaimer: So I don't own any of these characters, though most of the names used in this fic are based off of real historical people._

_This is just my interpretation of how America, and the world (within Hetalia), could have been if France had won the war. So don't take it too seriously. :)_

_A special thanks to Hidekazu-sensei, and my editor Hoshiko. Thank you!_

Author's Note: So I must give my most humble apologies to all of my readers who follow this story. My laptop died on me back in October and I wasn't able to find the time, what with school and work, to sit down and type up this chapter like I normally would have. As a gift to you all I have expanded this chapter and there is going to be a chapter 5 and then an epilogue.

This was originally going to be the last chapter but I figured I owed it to all of my readers for waiting so patiently for me to get my act together and get this thing written. I do hope it is to your liking and feel free to make suggestions on what you would like to see happen next or for another story idea! Happy Holidays! :D

* * *

Part 4

Seven Years' War - Remodified

~1753 North West American Territory May~

"It's the Spanish...they're...they're attacking!" the young men exclaimed, terrified.

"What?" America said, grabbing his gun off of the table and rushing out the door. He looked to where the smoke was coming from, seeing that it was thickening. "Could that be...gunpowder?"

The young man ran up behind him and nodded. "They've been kidnapping the women and demanding that we leave this land for it will soon belong to them anyways."

"You've got to be kidding me," America said as he ran out towards the edge of town. The closer he got to the edge of the village, the more apparent the chaos became. Fires were blazing left and right. Men were drawing their guns on each other; women and children were running from the soldiers invading their homes.

"Sir!" the young man started. "You have to stop this now!"

America looked over to him and raised an eyebrow. "Who is leading this attack? Have they made any demands? What-"

Before he could finish there was a large explosion right in front of them. Dust and debris flew in every direction, causing America to shield his face with his arms to keep from getting hit. When he opened his eyes, he squinted to see through the cloud of dust. Shadowy figures stood before him as he coughed to get the smoke out of his lungs.

Standing in front of him were seven Spanish soldiers in full uniform. Leading the group was none other than Antonio, a wide evil grin spread across his face.

"Well little America, I see you've finally decided to respond to my message." Antonio shrugged as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"If this is your way of sending a message then it's no wonder your power is wilting," America hissed.

Antonio shook his head. "As if you know anything about power. You're still a babe in the woods. And these woods will soon belong to me."

"You have no right to come here and claim my land as yours. If anything you should be taking this up with the King!" America shouted.

Antonio threw his head back and laughed. "HA! As if I would listen to anything that old fool has to say. I've tried talking and reasoning with him and even became his ally, but he still won't listen to my requests. He's too busy conquering the world and concerning himself with his wealth, that he's forgotten our pact."

"Why would you even want this land when you have much richer land out west?"

"Richer? Have you seen most of the land Makawee has so _graciously_ given to me? It's nothing but desert!" Antonio growled. "You try surviving in the sand under the scolding sun. Nothing but dunes and canyons for miles."

"And so you try to take the land that I worked so hard to get?" America asked with a hurt look in his eyes.

Antonio could tell that he wasn't being fair to America. But this was the only way that he was really going to get the King's and Francis' attention. "I'm not trying to take it America," he said raising a hand as he took a step toward him. "I am taking it," he confirmed as he pointed forward and the soldiers rushed forward in a charge.

America took a step back and shoved the young man behind him. He knew that he was no match for Antonio's army. There just weren't enough resources and there weren't enough men. But he wasn't going to give up without a fight. Even if it meant going down.

The soldiers ran towards the two with their swords and guns raised as the others stood behind readying the cannons.

"Sir! We can't face them head on! We have to retreat!" the young man shouted in panic.

"NO!" America retorted and pulled his gun from out of his back pocket. "I will not run away without fighting first! I refuse!"

"They're coming!" the young man screamed as he ducked and crossed his arms over his head.

America had to think and fast. He grabbed the young man by the collar and threw him aside out of harms way. He would hope that he didn't knock the poor guy out, but there were more important things that he had to attend to.

A Spanish solider had a gun pointed right at his chest when he turned back around. It was almost as if everything had gone still for that split second. He looked over to the right hoping the solider would glance over to see what it was he was looking at. It worked.

Lifting his arm, America shoved the soldier's gun away from his chest, causing it to go off and shoot behind him into the ground. He punched the soldier in the stomach and quickly moved to elbow him in the back of the neck.

"One man down," he said to himself as he quickly looked behind him to see another soldier running his way. Just when the man got close enough America knelt down and stuck out his right leg to try and trip him.

The solider caught sight of this and jumped over America's leg. America grinned and quickly used his hands to pull himself into a cartwheel, kicking the solider in the side slamming him into another solider.

"Is that all you're men got Antonio?" America grinned as he began dusting himself off.

Antonio narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw tight. "Get him," he said through his teeth.

America was then surrounded on all sides by Spanish soldiers. Guns, axes, and muskets were pointing at him from all sides. He looked around trying to see if there was a possible way for him to escape. He didn't find an opening between the soldiers as they were standing to close together for him to break through. His only option was to go up.

Right above them was a rope just low enough that he could possibly grab onto and use as an escape. The only problem was he didn't know if he could get high enough on the first jump. He would need a little help.

"FIRE!" Antonio yelled as the soldiers roared out with a charge.

America jumped up and kicked off the nearest man's shoulder before grabbing onto the rope. The Spanish soldiers were confused at first when he had suddenly disappeared, but quickly regained focus. America did all that he could not to get shot while trying to make his way over to the roof. At this point he was like a dangling piece of meat over a lion's den. And that wasn't something that he had planned for.

"Sir, over here!" a voice came from his right. The young man from before was sitting on the edge of the roof with another rope in his hands. If he could grab onto the rope, there was a possibility that he could swing through the open window the young man was above.

America took his chances and lunged for the other rope. He grabbed on to the very tip and slid his body through the open window right before it got shot at.

Antonio watched this and his blood boiled even more. He would not lose to such a weak colony. Whether he liked it or not, Francis would hear about this. How he lost his colony and the rest of his land thanks to his idiotic king.

~1753 Quebec June~

Word started to spread about the ongoing battle between the two countries. America had called for back-up from the original colonies, but in the end they still were not able to match Spain's power. The Spanish started to invade all of the remaining land, causing America's people to be driven into land that was not theirs, creating even bigger problems.

Matthew looked in complete shock as he listened to the soldier explain in details what had been going on in his brother's territory. What made it so unbelievable was the fact that Antonio had intentionally went out of his way to break the pact that they made. All to get the King's attention? Was Spain really in that much trouble that he had to go through all of this?

"I just don't understand," Matthew said softly. "Does brother Francis know about this?"

The soldier shrugged his shoulders. "A message had been sent out to him. We haven't received any word back from the messenger yet. But Sir America has advised that you not get your people involved in this battle."

"And what does he expect me to do? Just sit around while his people are murdered?" Matthew exclaimed. "Or did he forget that I am a part of this continent and the pact as well?"

The soldier sighed and shook his head. "I think what Sir America means is when the King does find out about this there is no doubt that he will be furious. Because of this I think Sir America doesn't want you to be involved so that you won't get punished for the Spanish's bad decision making."

Matthew frowned as he was not able to come up with a returning argument. "And so I am to just sit here...and wait."

"I sincerely apologize, sir. I know this is hard for you, but I assure you that as soon as Sir Bonnefoy finds out about this the King will take immediate action."

"I hope you're right," Matthew said as he looked out the cabin window. "Fine. Thank you for the update. You are free to go as you please," he said to the soldier and turned around making his way back towards the kitchen.

He was going to do something. He knew that it was going to be risky, maybe even a bit suicidal. But if there was a chance that Makawee's people and the entire French empire were to get involved with this battle it would turn into a war. And if that happened, they were going to need back-up.

~1753 North West American Territory June~

It had been a miracle that America's troops had lasted this long against part of the Spanish army. He knew that Francis and Matthew had to have heard word by now. He was hoping that they would arrive soon or else they would be finished.

He had already lost a lot of men; far more than he expected and way more than he ever wanted to. But for now, that was the least of his problems. He was stuck between two lands; one trying to kill him and the other kicking him out.

He begged Makawee for help as she knew these parts better than he did. But all of the Native Americans knew it would be worse to go up against Spain with America than simply just refuse either countries offer.

America looked to Makawee as she explained the situation and frowned in disappointment. "But you don't understand! I'm merely defending myself! I didn't start this! You have to believe me!"

Makawee watched him and sighed as she shifted her weight on the floor pillows that she had in her tipi. She could tell that he was in trouble by his looks alone. He was dirty, bloody and the look on his face was covered in a look of desperation. "I don't care if you weren't the one who started it, America. You shouldn't have agreed to even partake in this battle."

"Agreed? He had soldiers pointing a gun at my chest!" America yelled as he pointed towards the outside of the tipi. "How do you propose I respond to that? By just letting them shoot me?"

She shook her head, frowning slightly. "That's not what I said either. But having you here is destroying the property I have left. My people are just as in much danger as yours is," she sighed. "Listen...what I meant was..."

America stood up and shook his head. "No. I know what this is. I'm always wrong. I know exactly what you're going to say."

"America," she started, but by the time she had moved to say something else to him he was gone.

America made his way back to the cabin and looked around at all of the strategies he had laid out on the table. He grabbed them and clenched them into a tiny wad before throwing them across the room. He let out a yell of frustration as he kicked his chair over on its side. "DAMNIT!"

How dare Makawee blame HIM for this mess that they were in? How dare Antonio take his frustration on the King out on him? He placed his hands over his face and pressed his back against the wall. Sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, he began to let the tears fall from his eyes. He was going to lose. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew he couldn't defeat Antonio. Not without help.

Where was Francis when you needed him? It seemed like it had been days, maybe even weeks since America had sent word out to him? Could it have been that he had gotten caught up in a battle as well? Or maybe this was his own personal form of punishment for breaking the pact?

He stood up and wiped his tear filled eyes and looked at the mess he had created in the room. There was only one way to get Makawee to agree to his request. Force her. He knew that he was making this decision too quickly, but deep down he believed the sooner he got through to her the better.

He grabbed his gun out of his desk drawer and refilled the bullets. He looked out the window at the large round moon. "Brother…forgive me," he said softly as he blew out the candle and made his way to the center of the village.

~1753 Quebec June~

"What do you mean Matthew isn't here?" Francis demanded to know. Sweat was pouring down his face as his eyes expressed the most sorrowful state of panic.

"I'm sorry, sir," the solider said softly. "He disappeared the day he found out about the war between America and Spain."

"So it is true," Francis said, disappointed. He sighed. "I guess I will have to use the new weapons after all. And here I thought I wouldn't need to use that army that I gathered together."

"Army? Sir, you aren't really going to attack the Spanish army are you?" the soldier asked hesitantly.

"And what do you propose I do? Let Antonio get away with destroying my territory? Not punish him for breaking the pact that we all agreed on?" Francis asked.

"Of course not, sir," the soldier said looking down to the floor. "I just only hope that things do not get any worse."

Francis grabbed his things and ordered for his men to move out. He took one last look at the empty hut that Matthew once occupied and nodded his head. "As do I."

Matthew watched as the French army disappeared over the horizon from afar. "I don't want to upset you brother. But I cannot have you go about fighting this battle alone," he said to himself before hoisting a backpack over his shoulder. "I will help you and show everyone that I am worth something too."

With that, he jumped onto the boat and motioned for the men to start rowing. In his bag was a very important message headed to Europe.

~1753 North West American Territory July~

The heat from the blazing sun was enough to stop anyone from consciously deciding to step into its gaze. That is, anyone who wasn't already overcome with the thirst to kill. America knew that he had made a mistake. Taking on two countries at a time was beyond the point of suicidal. His master plan to force Makawee to fight with him against Spain only blew up in his face.

Not only did he upset her to the point where she would no longer listen, but now in addition to Spain attacking him, he had her people attacking as well. Needless to say the colonists were not too pleased by their fearless leader's idea. In fact, most of the remaining soldiers went into hiding with the women and children to keep from being tortured and killed.

America only prayed that some miracle would come and answer his prayers. Luckily for him he got a little more than he could ask for.

"Damnit," he whispered as he fell to one knee. The Native Americans were circling around him like a dying animal on a vulture's radar. The pain in his chest continued to grow as the red blotch on his shirt grew larger.

"You were wrong to have picked a fight against me. Especially when you were already so weak," Makawee laughed. "And it's such a pathetic sight to see you in such a state. Look at what has become of us…Look at what you've done!" she yelled and raised her hand to hit him.

America flinched and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact. Nothing came as he opened his eyes and turned to see a shocked look on Makawee's face. He cringed slightly when he saw Antonio holding Makawee's arm up in the air. He was the last person that needed to interfere.

"Do you really want to give him all the credit for ruining your last days in charge of this territory?" Antonio grinned smugly.

She snatched her arm away as the few remaining Native Americans surrounded the two. "What do you mean last days?" she asked suspiciously.

Antonio circled around to the front of her as his index finger gently caressed the bottom of her chin. "It's no trick question. It's just exactly how it sounds," he said pulling his gun out of his belt loop.

America stood up trying not to wince from the pain. "I'm not going to give up. Not to either of you," he said looking between them. "Antonio if you have problems with the King then take it up with him. But Makawee…I thought of all people you would understand. What it feels like to have someone come into your land uninvited and try to take it…or worse buy it from you."

"You're such a hypocrite!" she yelled at America. "You've been doing nothing but that to me since the moment I found you! If it weren't for my people, you and your so called brothers would have never survived on this continent! You're all so ungrateful! All of you! I'm finished with this!" she screamed as dark clouds began to cover the beaming sun.

Antonio looked around curiously and took a step back. Thunder cracked loudly in the sky as warm rain droplets fell suddenly from the unexpected clouds. He held up his weapon but wondered just how powerful she really was.

America saw Antonio thinking of retreating. He wouldn't let him get away this time. But before he could make a move for him Makawee was already there.

"Die and get out of my land for good!" she yelled as she charged at America with an arrow in her hand.

America was almost too slow as the tip barely missed his right arm. He knew what was on those arrow heads. Poison.

She struggled and managed to flip the tip around so that it was pointing downward. That was America's mistake. He was about to let go of her when a gun shot off close to them. It startled the two so much that they didn't realize the tip of the arrow was blown off.

"Explain to me exactly what is going on here," the deep French accent flowed from the shadows. Francis then stepped out and let the angry rain pour over his long curly locks. The expression on his face was far from pleasant. He lowered his gun slowly and walked towards the two.

"Since when was it okay for wars to randomly break out?" he asked, calmly yet clearly angered.

"If you could control these 'people' of yours then maybe we wouldn't have this problem," Makawee said snatching her wrist away from America and throwing the broken arrow to the ground.

"Yes, because I wanted this to happen," America said sarcastically.

Francis shoved America out of the way not even bothering to look at him. "And so you think you can go against our agreement without consulting me first?" he asked looking at Makawee. "Tell me Makawee," he took another step closer to her with a sinister look on his face. "do you really want to cross me?"

America shuttered slightly at his tone. The last time he had seen Francis this way was when England tried to invade during his development. Even stranger is he hadn't seen or heard news about Europe since that time. Was Francis really that powerful and feared?

Makawee didn't back down, staring into his eyes instead. "I will fight for my land no matter who raises their gun at me," she challenged.

Francis grinned and took a step back. He knew that in order to get further west to Antonio he would have to get by Makawee. He didn't want to fight her, but the colonists were his people and his to protect. He had already lost so many, and while revenge was never a strategic tactic of his, he was pretty angry about this entire thing to begin with.

"Then prepare yourself."

~1753 Newfoundland Territory July~

The smell of the sea became stronger the closer Matthew got to the shore. Small boats were gathered around a hidden reef on the backside of the colony. He looked behind him and took a deep breath as the two men he brought with him were keeping watch.

He knew he wasn't supposed to be here, especially not looking for the guest of honor. But if there was one thing he knew for sure it was that Antonio wasn't kidding. If he would stoop as low as to attack America and Makawee then the entire continent was in trouble.

The footsteps of the other party could be heard getting closer. The sun was so blinding that all Matthew could see was the outline of the men walking closer towards him. He squinted, placing his hand over his forehead to shield his eyes.

Standing in front of him where two tall buff men, one holding a letter and the other a weapon. Matthew gulped, wondering if this really was a good idea. But as soon as the men stopped and stepped aside he knew it was too late.

"You called for me?" the thick accented voice called out to him curiously.

"I did," Matthew said looking up to see Arthur's face. "I need your help."

~1753 Western American Territory July~

Antonio knew that once Francis was finished cleaning up America's mess, he was undoubtedly the next target. It had been an entire month since he had nearly escaped getting caught in the cross fire, but the peace wouldn't last much longer. He looked up to the stars and took a deep breath as he leaned back against the tree.

Luckily for him and his soldiers he had found a small wooded area near a stream. He watched as the young man put out the campfires for the evening so they couldn't easily be spotted by the light or the smell.

With stationed guards on every side, he closed his eyes knowing that should there be an attack the alarm would sound. A few minutes into his relaxation everything was entirely still. No sounds except for the crickets and the stream, which gave him a mixed feeling of bliss and uncertainty.

America walked up along the stream knowing that the Spanish were going to be nearby. He was purely out for revenge. His eyes were filled with hate as he made his way through the woods. Getting past Makawee was thanks to Francis, but to avenge his people, he was going to have to take care of the rest.

He spotted the camp and a huge grin crawled upon his face. "This is where it ends Antonio," he said softly and reached into his pocket.

Antonio's eyes shot open. He could have sworn he heard someone say his name. After a few minutes of searching around he went back to his spot and took a deep breath. "Calm down…it was probably nothing."

America looked down at him from the top tree branch. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for. He took in a silent breath before pouncing down to land on Antonio's back.

Antonio fell to the ground with a loud thud and hissed as his head hit the ground. "I knew you would be coming," he said through his teeth. "I just expected a less sneaky approach. Since you French are so…flashy."

America grinned and let out a sarcastic laugh. "Ha! As if I would give you any more time to prepare yourself. After all," he started as he leaned over and whispered in his ear. "I'm only returning the favor."

Antonio pressed his palms to the ground and lifted himself off the ground. America was then thrown off of him and stumbled backwards onto his feet. "Favor huh?" Antonio nodded. "Well if you wanted to be so generous why didn't you just say so?"

America inched towards him as he knew that he was going to do something. He couldn't let him run away as there was no way he could fight against reinforcements in his state. But if he tried to attack him head on he knew that Antonio was stronger than him.

Antonio was watching the boy intently and reached into his pocket to see if he had any weapons. Empty. He was going to have to rely on skill alone.

America made the first move and charged at him full force. The sound of his yell could be heard echoing throughout the forest. The two of them collided and began punching at each other.

America, despite his unhealed injuries, was still fast enough to keep up with Antonio's blow. Using his elbows and his palms to block the punches, America started to recognize his pattern. He then found an opening and swung his fist right into Antonio's cheek.

Antonio jumped back and placed his hand up to his cheek slowly. "You little…" he started before turning back to him and kicking his leg.

America saw this coming and jumped sideways in time enough not to be hit by Antonio's foot. Though Antonio was to fast for him and punched him right in the stomach. America coughed up a bit of blood and leaned over wrapping his arms around himself.

Antonio was about to move towards him when a rustling noise could be heard from the bushes. Both stopped to look and see if it were French or Spanish soldiers coming for back up. America inched away from Antonio while he was distracted and took a step back as a shoe popped out of the bush. Not just any shoe either, an expensive French tailored boot. Soon to follow was a very angry Francis.

Antonio jumped to his feet and looked between the two of them. "I'm not going to give up just because I'm outnumbered," he said quickly.

Francis grinned and let out a small laugh. "Who said anything about that?" he asked walking towards him casually. "I merely wanted to talk to you. Negotiate if you will."

"Negotiate?" America asked offended. "What could you possibly have to negotiate with him? Destroy him! He deserves it!"

"Now now America, you seem to forget that Antonio and I have a long history together," he said moving even closer to Antonio.

"Have you forgotten that it is HIS fault for having Makawee and my people go through this pain?" America reminded.

Francis sighed and shook his head. "Still…there is more here at stake than you think."

"Your King wants to negotiate with me?" Antonio scoffed wiping his mouth. "Even after I broke that pact, attacked your colony and started a war between you and Native America?" He laughed. "He must really not want to fight me."

"And for good reason Antonio. We have been in an alliance for centuries. Tell me," he said now standing in front of him. "why this?"

Antonio looked Francis in the eyes and scowled. "Because I want him dead!"

America charged at him again, but Francis grabbed onto his arm. "Let go of me! Why are you stopping me?"

"Because America, all you're going to do is make things worse. Is that what you want?" Francis asked.

"Are you defending him?" America asked pushing him away.

"From you yes. Being my colony, you are a part of my empire. The things you do have consequences that backfire on me. My orders were not to fight with Antonio, but instead negotiate his needs," he explained. "Starting a war with another European nation at this time is…especially with an ally is…"

"How can you call him an ally? I was merely defending myself! Am I wrong for that? And what about him? Is he just going to get a slap on the wrist because of his doings? He needs to be punished!"

"That is not for you to decide," Francis said, implying the conversation was over.

America's face fell as he looked down to the ground. How? How could things have come to this? Why was Francis betraying him? He felt so alone. Francis hated him, Antonio hated him and now Makawee's relationship with him would never be the same.

The only person he had left was…He turned around and took off running. He didn't even know if he was going the right way. But anywhere was better than here.

Francis turned and was about to take after him when Antonio stopped him. "Let him go. We have things to discuss."

~1753 Atlantic Coast August~

It had taken a long time for America to gain the trust of his people again. But by the end of the month they had regained a lot of their lost belongings; crops, clothing, homes and even livestock. If there was one thing the colonists were good at it was getting through hard times. He had sent at least two or three letters to Quebec but still hasn't heard any word from Matthew.

He decided it was best if he just paid him a visit face-to-face. On his way up there he noticed that something wasn't right. There were men that appeared to be standing guard out on the border. Every time he looked to them they would look away as if keeping some secret. What was worse was he knew they weren't Matthew's people.

He sent one of his men up first and stood behind in case it was a trap. If something happened to Matthew he would have to save him since he couldn't place his trust in Francis anymore. Thirty minutes went by and America was becoming more concerned. He began pacing back and forth in the shrubs until he heard the young man coming closer.

"Sir! Sir!" The young man panicked as he ran over to him.

"What? Is everything alright? Where's Matt?" America asked.

"It's horrible! The British are holding him captive!"

"What!" America exclaimed and began walking without letting him finish.

"Wait!" The man continued, "The French army is also stationed outside of the house. Apparently Sir Francis and Sir Arthur are going to…negotiate something."

America took off and ran as fast as he could. He wouldn't let his brother get hurt. He just wouldn't.

~1753 Quebec August~

Matthew sat in the living room of the lodge and looked between the two nations. The tension was so high that he felt as if he was going to choke. He squirmed in the chair and tried to undo the knot tied around his wrists. This was the last thing he expected to happen since everything seemed to have been going so smoothly.

"_You need my help?"Arthur asked raising an eyebrow as he shoved his hands in his pocket. _

_Matthew nodded and looked down at his feet. "It's America. I think he needs help."_

"_And you want me to help him?" he asked shaking his head. "What about your other brother? Is he not going to help him?"_

"_That's my fear. Antonio has attacked and if he gets into a fight with brother Francis then…"_

"_All of Europe might be at risk," Arthur said placing his hand to his chin pondering. "You have a point. I'm sure this is something that needs to be worked out before another European war breaks out on the count of his selfishness."_

"_Selfish? Are you calling my brother selfish?" Matthew asked worriedly taking a step back._

_Arthur grinned and rolled his eyes a bit. "Oh come now Matthew. You can't possibly believe that what I'm saying is not true. In fact," he said taking a step closer to him. "You're being a bit selfish as well."_

"_I…I am? But how?"_

"_You may have good intentions lad, what with wanting to help your brothers and all, but what makes this request so selfish is the fact that you are asking me to get involved in something that is none of my business. Sure if Europe were to get involved with Spain and France's battle it would be a concern but," he reached over and wrapped an arm around Matthew's shoulder. "Until then, what you're asking me is to willingly walk into enemy territory and demand respect when in fact I am the one so rudely barging in."_

_Matthew felt like a complete fool after hearing his explanation. This was a bad idea after all. "I…" he started but Arthur stopped him. _

"_No," he said moving him towards the boat. "Let me tell you what I'm going to do to help you all get out of this mess."_

He had been stuck in this position ever since he heard those words. Arthur had found a way to push France's button that made him instantly tick.

"I'm glad you could get here as fast as you could," Arthur said finally breaking the tense silence.

"What do you want with Matthew?" Francis asked. "Surely he is of no value to you anymore."

Arthur scoffed and placed his hand on Matthew's head and began running his fingers through his hair. "Oh, but he is."

"Why is that?" Francis watched intently at his every move.

"Because anything that is of importance to you is of great value to me." Arthur grinned and ran his finger down Matthew's cheek.

Francis grabbed Arthur's wrist and snatched it away from Matthew's face. He tightened his grip and narrowed his eyes. "Don't try me."

"Oh and what are you going to do? It's not like you are in any position to fight me," Arthur said in a cocky tone.

Francis didn't back down, but his appearance told the truth. He looked worn out, tired and ready to collapse. But he had almost lost something important to him already. He didn't want to go through that again. "I may not be, but that doesn't mean I won't."

Arthur pulled his wrist out of his grasp and laughed a little under his breath. "Francis, I don't want to fight you either. And quite frankly that isn't the reason I came here."

Francis raised an eyebrow and looked over to Matthew. "What did he come here for?"

Matthew was hoping that they would forget that he was in the room. He took a deep breath and looked down at his feet sheepishly. "I…I asked him to come."

"WHAT!" Francis yelled taking a step back.

"That's right. I'm only here because I was invited to come. Admit it Francis. You need my help," Arthur smiled.

"Me? Need your help? I'd sooner make a deal with the devil than accept an alliance with you!"

"Who said anything about a bloody alliance? I'm talking," he said walking over to a briefcase that was sitting on the fireplace mantel. "About this," he turned and opened the briefcase. Inside was a countless sum of money.

Francis looked at the briefcase with a blank stare. He didn't know what to say. With all of that money he could do so much. Repair the land that was damaged from the war, fund the current projects on his many other territories and finally increase trade routes outside of Europe.

"What do you say? Take the deal. You know you need it," Arthur said in a smooth voice. "Trust me Francis. I wouldn't steer you wrong with this."

Just then America burst into the room breathing heavily. Sweat poured from his brow as his eyes scanned the scene with curiosity. "Where…is Matthew?"

Everyone in the room turned to look at him before Matthew decided to speak first. "America…I'm glad to see you're safe."

America ran over to him and knelt down in front of Matthew, his eyes unable to stay in one place. "Matt," he said cupping his face. "What have they done to you?" He asked noticing that his hands were tied up.

Before Matthew could speak Arthur cleared his throat and took a step forward. "I suspect you will take me up on my offer Francis?"

Francis looked over to the two boys. It seemed like just yesterday that the two of them were no taller than his knees. He couldn't dare tear them apart, but it would be for their own good if he did. He always felt that he was never as good to Matthew as he was to America. For that he was now starting to regret.

"Offer?" America asked looking from Francis to Arthur to the briefcase. "What offer?"

"This doesn't concern you America," Arthur said simply. "So I suggest you be quiet."

"I'm not going to do anything until Matthew's untied and I get an explanation on what's going on here," America demanded.

Arthur sighed with frustration. All of this delay was giving Francis too much time to think. He wanted a quick and painless answer, but now that America had to appear it would be dramatic no doubt. "Yes or no Francis, I don't have all day and I'm sure if you don't take my offer…Makawee will."

America looked to Arthur confused and angered. Just what was he trying to do? Or better yet buy? "Are you asking him to sell me to you? Because if that's the case I flat out refuse right now."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh. "Who said anything about you America? I see you're as self-centered as always," he said leaning back and running his fingers through his hair. "No, I've given up on you fair and square love, but what I am after now," he turned his gaze to Canada. "is him."

America blinked and shook his head trying to process the information that was just relayed to him. England was going after his brother Canada? "What? You want…Matthew?"

Arthur was soaking in every minute of this priceless moment that he could. "What? Are you disappointed little America? That, for once, something wasn't all about you?" He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "You should be happy I'm doing this. After all, it would be beneficial to you too."

"That's enough, Arthur," Francis said finally regaining his voice. He walked over to the fireplace and looked into the case uneasily. "What are your conditions? If I were to make this deal with you…what would you want in exchange?"

"How could you even consider selling Matthew off? And to him of all…" America started.

"Of all what?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Heh, you dare have the audacity to insult me when I'm doing nothing but keeping you out of debt?" He glared at America. "I ought to withdraw this proposal all together."

Francis held up his hand and shook his head. "That won't be necessary. Just answer my question and I will give you my decision."

"My only condition is that you open up a free trade route with me. Not only on your European mainland but here in America as well," Arthur offered. "I know that you can use this money to increase your international trade, but I want to be a part of it as well."

Francis knew this wasn't an offer he could refuse. He knew the decision his King would make if he was standing here with him. "Fine. You can have the Canadian territory as well as access to the trade route."

America grabbed Matthew and pulled him out of his chair. "Come on Matt," he said gently pushing him towards the door. "I'll protect you."

Arthur shot a look at America and rolled his eyes. "Where do you think you're going with MY territory?"

"He's not your territory!" America yelled keeping hold of Matthew.

"Neither is he yours," Francis interfered. "You make no decisions on what is or isn't best for him."

"And you think this is best for him?"

"Of course it is," Arthur said pulling out the agreement papers. "After all Matthew trusts me."

"And what in that crazy mind of yours led you to believe that?"

"He's the one," he started as he walked over to the two. "who asked me to come here."

America slowly turned to look at Matthew as his eyes watered in disbelief. "M-Matt?"

Matthew rubbed his wrists and continued to stare at the floor. "America I…didn't think it would turn out like this."

"How could you? How could you betray me?" America growled clenching his fists.

"Betray you?" Matthew asked, offended. "I was doing all of this to help you!"

"Help me? Why does everyone assume they know what's best for me? You, Francis, Antonio, Makawee…you're all wrong! You've all done nothing but hurt me!" he cried.

Matthew let Arthur untie his hands and shook his head. "Fine. At least now…I won't be around to ruin it anymore!" he yelled turning and running out the door.

Arthur sighed, grabbed the case, and ran after him.

Francis moved to sit down in the chair near the window. "Are you happy?"

America kept his back to him and took in a deep breath. "No. But I guess that was your goal all along."

"My goal?" Francis asked angrily. "You think I wanted this to happen? I didn't ask for Antonio to attack you! Nor did I ever plan on making any transactions concerning you two!"

"Then why? Why is this happening? You're the mighty French Empire! Can't you fix this?"

Francis sighed, hanging his head. "America…I wish I could make it right. But you don't understand how hard it is for me right now. I'm going broke from all of these unexpected happenings. I not only have to support you, but my own land and other territories. Surely you realize that's not cheap."

"And so the second someone offers you a mountain of money you bend to their will? Why would you sully your dignity like that? That screams desperate!"

"And the word will spread faster if I were to refuse," Francis said softly. "Like it or not America, this is the best decision. I'm going through with it."

"Then I'm stepping out." America looked over to him. "If you think that every decision you've made has been the best then I don't want to be around for the next one."

Francis stood up and walked over to America grabbing his arms. "You really think you can survive in this world without me? After all I've been through and sacrificed for you, you think you can just walk away?"

"You can't stop me Francis. I've had it with you. Admit it. The only reason you fought harder for me that for Matthew was because I bring you the most money. We're nothing but properties to you after all…aren't we?"

Francis let go of him and took a step back. "I never meant for this to happen. All I wanted was for you both to be happy and safe."

"Well…look how that turned out," he huffed. "We'll be happy alright, but it's going to be without you." With that he left the room.

Francis watched as the door closed and he leaned against the wall. "I can't believe this is happening."

Another moment later Arthur walked back into the room with a now calm Matthew. The look on his face was sheer happiness at how well his plan was going. The French Empire would fall soon thanks to him. "So I assume the transaction is still in effect?" he asked holding out the briefcase.

Francis glanced at the case for what seemed like forever. His mind was overflowing with all sorts of different thoughts. Was this really the only way? Or worse would he regret this decision later on? He glanced at Matthew.

Matthew looked away from him already knowing the answer. What did it matter what he said at this point anyways? He knew what the best choice was even if America was taking it a little worse than planned.

Francis held out his hand and nodded. "I accept your offer."

Arthur grinned wider than he ever had in his life. "Good," he said taking his hand and shaking it. "I was hoping you would make the wise decision," he said smoothly before handing over the case.

* * *

Thanks for reading yet another chapter! Look out for the final chapter entitled Independence – Revised.


	5. Independence - Revised

[Author's notes: OH MY GOD! Is this actually an update to this story that is over a billion years old?! Yep! You've guessed it. My time has freed up and my writing muse is back! Sadly this is the last chapter to this story but if you did enjoy it please feel free to check out my other Hetalia stories or even my other fics from other animes/genres! I hope for all of you that have been with me through the whole journey of this fic turn out pleased from the results. Even I was a bit uneasy with coming to a conclusion with this as it's a historical alternate universe that could essentially go on and on through the 21st century. But who wants to bore you with the NOW timeline? Not I. So without further a due~]

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Chapter 5

Independence – Revised

~1756 Paris, France December~

Francis worried for a long time if what he did was actually the best choice or not. Judging by his people's and his government's reactions he would have to say no. Though he wasn't too sure as it seemed like a fifty fifty vote. King Louis XV wasn't too pleased at whom the deal was made with, but the amount of money that they had acquired in such a short amount of time was so desperately needed that it almost seemed as if the Canadian territory could be overlooked as a loss.

The Colonists still refused to have any contact with the mainland French since the day they found out about the exchange. To be pawned off at such a price and without much of an effort didn't give them comfort in how valuable they really were to the King and the French people on land. This wasn't the best thing for them since a lot of their trade money came and went through France to Europe, but at this point they were trying to do everything they could to survive on their own and prove to the mainland that they didn't need them as badly as they would love to believe.

Francis looked out his window at the beautiful city that was his heart. How is it that one day he was laughing and happy with the soul of his foundation and the next the cold wet rain reminded him of just how much he had lost. Arthur was right. He would never become an empire such as him because he had too much of a heart and conscious when it came to his territories. At least…he used to. This was the first real deal he had ever made concerning the two with outside nations. England, no doubt, is bragging to everyone how they are going there and taking over even though that is not nearly the case.

What makes matters worse is he still didn't know how those boys were doing, or if they had still refused to speak to each other all this time. He was hoping he was wrong and that honestly they all were working together and not competing against each other. He couldn't have been more wrong.

He walked into the meeting room and looked around at all of the noblemen and at the head was the King. Of course he had the usual look of disappointment on his face that Francis almost came to expect every time he walked into the room. He was in for a mouth full.

"Francis, so glad of you to join us," the King said as he folded his hands on the table. "Sit. We have much to discuss."

Francis didn't like the tone in his voice. It was his job to take care of and please his people, but when there was a band of colonist rising against you then there isn't much that you can do. "Your majesty I know that what I have done to this country is not something that you would consider wise."

"Wise?"Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, the official chief mistress, raised an eyebrow and laughed softly. "Surely handing over one of our most profitable valuables for a mere case amount of money is far from the word wise."

"Now Reinette," the King soothed seeing that she was getting worked up from the horrible news. "We should give Francis a chance to explain. Clearly there is a lack of communication between the House and our beloved country."

"There is no lack of communication," Francis said adjusting himself in his seat. "I know that there was good news that Austria is considering creating an alliance with us, which surprised me that Roderichis actually agreeing to this at this time."

"Which we can only be so grateful about," Poisson added in and looked to Francis angrily. "And you have our King to thank for that. No doubt that you wouldn't have thought anything as remotely close to a good idea if you would to still be in charge."

Francis frowned. "I know I may not have made the best decisions these past few years but I have brought more into this empire than I have taken out." he pressed.

King Louis looked to Francis and narrowed his eyes a bit. "Canada has left us. And now America is on the verge of leaving us too."

Francis sat up straight and looked over to the King confused. "What? What do you mean America is thinking of leaving? You mean like...revolting against us?"

"The Native Americans have teamed up with the colonists and have convinced them that the mainland is doing nothing but more harm than good," Poisson explained. "Because of this, word has carried across the Atlantic that if something isn't done right away there is a possibility that the colonies will indeed take back their to status of being independent."

"No doubt Antonio will try to take advantage of this news as well," Francis said rubbing his scruffy chin. "But he could not get any trust out of the colonists. Not after attacking them. So there is no way he would be able to make it into the land without them attacking first. Also with the British to the border north of him. Well I doubt he would do anything with Canada." he sighed and stood up. "I guess I have no choice but to go and talk to the people and try to convince them that staying apart of the mainland is in their best interest after all."

"We would be losing a valuable asset if in fact the colonist decided to revolt against us," the King reminded Francis and raised an eyebrow. "Show me that you have the power to control them and you just may redeem yourself."

Francis was appalled at the idea of having to lower himself to the manner in which his people were requesting. But all and all without them he would be nothing and thus he sucked it up and continued on his way.

~1757 Atlantic Coast April~

The next few months were nothing short of treacherous as he ventured the Atlantic and over to the colonist states. They seemed to be doing just fine when he arrived though the majority of them had not noticed him or even remembered who he was. That gave him a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

When he finally arrived to the cabin in which he had overheard Alfred was living in he hesitated before knocking on the door and entering the cabin on his own accord. Standing there was a tall handsome blonde young man. Francis almost didn't recognize him it had been so long and he had grown so much.

"America?" he asked almost unsure of whether he had the right place or not.

Turning around the young man looked to him and raised an eyebrow looking less than pleased at the sight that had bestowed itself in front of him. "Francis. I had caught word that you would be returning. If it is the taxes you are looking for to be sent back to the King we have already sent it. Other than that I don't see why you would make the trip all the way here for nothing."

Francis was a bit burned by how cold he was being. It was as if the little boy he had raised was a completely different person. That he was staring into the eyes of a stranger when he looked into those blue pools that were filled with hurt and betrayal. He sighed running his fingers through his hair and shook his head taking a step further toward him.

"America that is not the reason I have come here today. I came to check up on you. To see how you were doing. I have sent you multiple letters and multiple messengers. And yet I haven't heard a single thing back from you. Had it not been for the reports that Matthew was sending to me regarding your status I would have thought that you were..."

"I'm doing fine." he said curtly.

Francis paused and then looked to him before taking another step closer. "Is there any way that you would ever forgive me?" he asked knowing that it was a lost cause of a question to ask but still he had no other choice but to present it.

America kept his back to Francis as if he was thinking about what kind of answer to give him. He then slowly turned around and finally faced him head on and looked in square in the eyes with all seriousness.

"I want you to announce our recognition as our own country."

Francis knew this conversation was going to come up one day the minute he agreed to take Matthew and America under his wings. But never would he have imagined that it would have ended up this way.

"You want to detach from the main land... permanently?"

America nodded. "That's right. I'm tired of being a colony, a territory, a property known to the rest of the world as "owned by" instead of as my own nation."

"And what do you expect to get out of this said new found freedom? Do you think it's easy being a full fledged nation all on your own? You forget that you have Britain to the North and Spain to the South of you. Should something go wrong do you really think you will be able to handle yourself without any outside help?"

"I have been this entire time," America pointed out as he crossed his arms and looked away from Francis. "Besides you know as well as I do that I am not as much of a profit to you anymore. I outsource my own products and import trade with other countries who are willing to give me more of a financial boost. I'm not just dependent on you sending me things from over seas anymore."

"And what if you were to go to war?" Francis asked. He knew he hadn't finished his training with America yet. But the first war he had ever been with was a major tragedy to all of the colonists states. "Surely you do not want a repeat of the same thing that happened before."

"There won't be. I know Matthew has my back no matter what if I needed it. He is my brother after all. And though we may not be on the best of terms we are doing a lot better now thanks to England's help."

Francis looked to him a bit shocked. He never thought England would try to mend the relationship between the two for fear that Matthew would change his mind about being associated with an enemy as opposed to an allied nation. Nevertheless he nodded his head and took a step back towards the door.

"Fine. If you think you are set to go. Then I will have a talk with the King and see just how well off you will be."

America watched him curiously for a moment. "And what do you mean by that?" he said before Francis could turn to walk out of the cabin.

"Oh nothing. Just know that the minute you detach yourself from me you detach yourself from all of my allies. If you hadn't noticed, the only reason why those nations came to you in the first place to trade with you is because I knew you were running low on resources and since you refused to trade with me." he shrugged and turned putting his hand on the door knob. "Well I told them to start up a trade with you."

"LIES!" America yelled clenching his fists again before pointing to him. "You think you're so damn high and mighty as if you have control over every little thing I do or know every single thing that goes on this side of the Atlantic. Well you're wrong. Go ahead and tell them to stop trading with me. I'll convince them on my own to continue. And then maybe the day will come when they leave you to follow me. And how I would love to see the look on your face the moment that comes that I will be stronger of a nation than you."

Francis felt a sharp pain in his heart and refused to turn around to look at the boy. Saying nothing more he opened the door to the cabin and made his exit before standing out on the porch for quite some time before making his leave.

Unknowing to him America had knelt to the floor in tears. Why did things have to be this way? Why did he feel so much hatred towards someone he loved so much? There was an uncontrollable urge that drived him to push Francis away. His people had spoken and regardless of his personal feelings ultimately what they said was what he had to promise to deliver. Even if it was causing him such heart ache.

~1757 Paris, France August~

"You want to do what?!" The King asked in fury as he looked to Francis who remained calm and almost emotionless in his seat. He was already on the verge of losing everything. Why would this outburst be much of a difference to him at this point?

"You heard me sir. I'm going to cut ties with America. If those colonists think they can really handle themselves in the real world then let them see just what a cruel and undeserving place it really is."

Piosson looked to Francis almost a bit concerned before turning back to the King and raising a hand in suggestion. "The only way this will work out to our benefit in the end your majesty is to stage a confrontation that we know the colonists will lose."

Francis looked up at Piosson and shook his head. "I don't want to hurt them. Or even make them go through any more loss than they already have."

"Francis please. This is about power. Control. Wealth and ultimately in the end world domination. If you so much as let the colonists run and be free just because they raised a bit of a tiff what pray tell do you think will happen to the rest of our territories. When there is one bad apple in the bunch you snap it back in line before it can infect the rest. We aren't in this game to waste food." the King grinned almost a little to evil for Francis' sake. "So. Let us begin the preparation."

~1760 Atlantic Coast February~

"Sir! Sir! There are unknown foreign ships sailing in from the West! They appear to be battle ships and I don't think they are docking to restock their supplies!" A lookout solider announced barging into the cabin in which America was sitting in.

"What?" He asked standing up and sliding on his jacket before walking out into the bitter cold. It had been almost two years since the French monarch had sent written word to the colonists about finalizing their requests on becoming independent from the main land. Could this be another trick that Francis was trying to pull to get America to reconsider?

When he made his way out to the shore there was indeed many of ships with flags sailing above that he did not recognized. Curious he took a step forward only to be pulled back by another solider when he pointed out a cannon ball had been shot! They were attacking? But for what? And who where they?

"Ready the cannons! Prepare for battle!" America yelled as he dusted himself off and rose to his feet running back to the nearest town to evacuate all of those that could be potentially put in harms way.

The next week was nothing more but long drawn out battles with this unknown enemy. It could be seen all over America's face how tired he was. He had went through such a long period of semi peace after the whole fiasco with Antonio and Arthur had blown over. To say the least his skills as a general were more than a bit rusty. He had already lost five percent of his army and was still awaiting word from the Canadians on what they were going to do to help. After all most of the enemy was setting up base camp on the border.

One dark sinister evening the door opened and a messenger ran in with a sealed envelope addressed to America. He could recognize that handwriting anywhere. It was from Matthew. Practically tearing into the parchment he read over it quickly and then frowned looking up at the boy who delivered it to him.

"Sir...what does it say?" the young on asked cautiously even though from the look on America's face he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the contents.

"Matthew...refuses to help me?" he asked before looking back down at the letter. "Do to current circumstances under the law of his majesty the King George the II, I must deny your request for help aiding in the battle of this enemy nation that attacks you? Currently my mainland, the Kingdom of Great Britain is preparing for attack on the newly weakened French empire?!"

America threw the paper on the floor and stood up. "What is this nonsense?! Surely he can't be serious! Going to war with France! It's...it's..."

"Sir! The enemy has breached the second line of defense! If we don't act now they will destroy the village and all of the crop harvest we've been storing up to last the rest of the winter!"

Panicked America looked around as if he could find something that would help in at the last minute. To no avail he sighed and nodded grabbing his hat and headed out towards the once again bloody battlefield.

It took another two days of battling before America retreated his troops. He had to find out once and for all who these mysterious people were and why they were trying to take over their land. But before he could get close enough to the enemy line Francis walked up to him all worn and ragged.

"Francis! What are you doing here? What..." But before America could finish Francis collapsed to the ground and let out a small sigh as if he was trying to speak.

"America...you must talk to the King. And stop him from entering war with Britain." Francis said as the boy tried to lift him up.

"The King? But how am I supposed to stop him from..." America started.

"My people on the main land are suffering. Attacks from every direction and now...they are taking it out on you. That wasn't supposed to be the plan." Francis continued.

"Plan...what plan are you talking about Francis? Calm down and just..."

"He promised me he would leave you alone. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I...couldn't protect you."

"Who promised you...protect me from what..." America looked to Francis as his eyes closed and tears collected in his eyes. "No...NO! Francis you can't do this to me. I can't do this alone. I need you. I need your help! Please! Please!"

Just then a cannonball attack hit not too far from where the two were knelt down on the ground causing America and Francis to split up as they flew across the road from the force impact of the steel death ball.

"FRANCIS!" America yelled as he tried to stand up seeing through his blurry vision the blonde man lying a few feet away from him motionless. Feeling the warm blood trail down his skin he forced his body to stand as he limped his way over to the shore.

One way or another he was going to win this battle. Not just for him. But for Francis too. And it wasn't just this battle he was going to win. He was going to go to the mainland and reclaim Paris in the name of France. Because that is where he belonged all along. That's where they all belonged. All of his colonists. No matter how much they tried to deny it they were French people as well. And if he had to become the new leader of the Empire. Then the world would never forget the day that the small American colonist states took over to form a new era.

* * *

[And that my dear is how the French Empire took over the world. Okay so that's probably not the way I, or any of you, expected that to turn out. And I really do apologize if that seemed a bit rushed. But the more I thought about it while I was writing, the more I wanted to leave the REAL conclusion up to the interpretation of you guys. The readers. (I mean I hate when manga artist do that to me but now I know how they feel...sorta) BUT in all honesty it would be SO bad ass if the French/American empire did take over the world if not for a few centuries longer than any other empire ruled.

But I know what you're thinking. Is Francis dead? Did America defeat England and Prussia in the upcoming wars and World Wars and blah blah blah? Well I was thinking of writing an epilogue but I'm not really sure how I would want it to turn out considering it is an alternate universe no one can say for sure how the wars would have ended or should have gone. Disagree? Let me know what you think! And as always thanks for reading and being so patient with me. I am so bad at this updating thing. LOLOL Onward to the next fic!]


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